Storm Clouds
by er-maniac-26
Summary: A family vacation to London yields unexpected trials and tribulations, with little hope of relaxation, for Mark and Elizabeth.


Storm Clouds  
  
By: Jenn (ERManiac26)  
  
DISCLAIMER: ER, the characters, and the situations depicted within are the property of Warner Bros. Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant c Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. The story presented here is written solely for entertainment purposes, and the author is not making a profit.  
  
Feedback is welcome. Please send all questions, comments or criticisms to er_maniac_26@yahoo.com  
  
SUMMARY: A family vacation to London yields unexpected trials and tribulations, with little hope of relaxation, for Mark and Elizabeth.  
  
RATING: PG-13   
  
BACKGROUND: This fic is a continuation of Another Chance, which was previously posted to this site. This installment begins in June of 2005. Mark and Elizabeth still work at County and are raising their four-year-old daughter, Ella, and their six-month-old son, Matthew. Rachel is seventeen and has been living with them since the previous November. The last episode that applies to this series is "A Simple Twist of Fate".  
  
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to take this time to thank Lori (SixteenOzs02) for all of her help with this fic; for reading the scenes as I sent them and providing me with really great ideas and excellent feedback. You're the best!  
  
"Ella, come upstairs with mommy so we can pick out your clothes to take to see grandma and grandpa," Elizabeth called as she carried a load of laundry through the living room and toward the stairs. When there was no response, Elizabeth shouted again, "Ella!"  
  
Upon her second call, Mark carried Ella out of Rachel's bedroom above his head like an airplane, Ella giggling and making plane sounds the entire time. "It's a bird! It's a plane! No. . .it's Ella!" Mark teased as he walked toward Elizabeth who stood at the foot of the stairs admiring her husband and daughter.  
  
"Hi, mommy," Ella giggled as Mark lowered her closer to Elizabeth's face.  
  
Leaning up to kiss their daughter, Elizabeth said, "Hello, sweetheart." She smiled at Mark and Ella momentarily before taking on a more unyielding expression. "Mark, please tell me that you have everything packed that you need for this trip," Elizabeth said as she turned from them and started to ascend the stairs.  
  
When he didn't respond immediately, Elizabeth turned back around to face him and saw the sheepish look on his face. "Well. . .almost," he replied as he lowered Ella from above his head to carry her in his arms.  
  
"You haven't even started have you," Elizabeth stated, knowingly shaking her head. She tried to make herself look stern, but she really couldn't keep up that façade for long. She enjoyed seeing Mark play with Ella and definitely didn't begrudge him that. She was daddy's little girl, and Elizabeth was just glad that, unlike her, Ella had an excellent foundation for a relationship with her father.  
  
"Rachel was having a little trouble getting all of her things together, so Ella and I were helping her out," Mark replied as he ascended a couple stairs toward his wife.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked, a hint of worry in her expression.  
  
Mark saw the look on her face and said, "Yes, everything is fine, Elizabeth. Don't start worrying, ok. She still gets a little stiff from the surgery from time to time. She was having a hard time lifting her suit case, that's all."  
  
Elizabeth just nodded and said, "Ok."  
  
"Ella and I are ready to start packing now, though. Right Elle?" Mark said, looking from Elizabeth to Ella.  
  
"Yes, daddy. I want to pack my own suitcase just like Rachel," the little girl replied happily.  
  
"Would you mind if Matthew shares a suitcase with you?" Elizabeth asked as she made her way to the top step and then into Ella's bedroom, with Mark following close behind.  
  
"Ok, mommy. Can I pick out Matthew's clothes, too?" Ella asked excitedly.  
  
"You. . .can help," Elizabeth responded warily as she sat the laundry basket on Ella's bed and started putting the clothes away into the closet and drawers. "Come show mommy what you want to take."  
  
Mark observed Elizabeth as she moved around their daughter's bedroom. Noticing the tension in his wife's form, he placed Ella on the floor and crossed the room toward Elizabeth who stood looking into the closet. Stepping up behind her and placing his hands onto her shoulders, he squeezed her muscles gently and said, "We're going to have a wonderful time on this trip, ok. You should NOT be this tense."  
  
As Mark continued to rub her shoulders, Elizabeth turned toward him. "I know. There's just so much to do before we leave tomorrow evening," Elizabeth sighed, looking toward Ella who was pulling clothes out of her drawers.  
  
"I want to take all of this, mommy," Ella said as she pulled an armload of clothing out of her drawer and placed in on her bed.  
  
Mark smiled at Ella as Elizabeth sighed once again. "Look, I'll go pack all of my things and then. . ." A piercing thump from downstairs and then the shrill cry of a baby hastily cut off his statement.  
  
Before Mark could say another word, Elizabeth was on her way out Ella's bedroom door. When she reached the top of the stairs, she looked back toward Mark and quickly instructed, "Get Matthew! I'll see what happened." Elizabeth then turned and rushed down the stairs. "Rachel!" She called anxiously as she rushed into her stepdaughter's bedroom.  
  
There she saw Rachel sitting in the middle of her floor, tears sliding down her cheeks. Looking around the room, Elizabeth searched for the cause of the commotion they had heard. Seeing Rachel's suitcase on the floor, its contents strewn about, she crossed the room and sat down in the middle of the floor in from of her stepdaughter. "Rachel, sweetheart, what happened?" Elizabeth asked gingerly.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Mark asked as he rushed into the bedroom carrying Matthew with Ella following behind.  
  
Elizabeth looked up toward him with a worried expression and mouthed, "I don't know."  
  
"Rach, what happened?" Mark asked as he crossed the room and took a seat on her bed.  
  
Rachel looked up from the floor, and through her tears, she said, "I. . .I was trying to. . .to lift my suitcase and put it on the floor. . .so you could load it into the truck," Rachel replied.  
  
"I thought we already did that," Mark stated.  
  
"Well, I forgot something, so I put my suitcase back on my bed. When I was finished, I tried to pull it off the bed again, but a sharp pain shot all the way down my back. I just couldn't hold onto it and when it hit the floor my clothes just flew everywhere," Rachel said as a new stream of tears flowed down her face.  
  
"Are you still hurting now," Elizabeth asked as she leaned over to hug Rachel.  
  
Rachel just nodded as she cried into Elizabeth's shoulder. "I just want to be able to do things for myself again," Rachel said after a moment of silence.  
  
"You will, sweetheart," Mark said as he reached out with one had to rub her back. "It is just going to take time."  
  
"But daddy, it has been almost three months. Isn't that long enough?" Rachel asked tearfully.  
  
Elizabeth looked up at Mark. She could see the pain in his eyes. His daughter was in pain and there wasn't a thing he could about it. She felt so badly for him. She wanted to take both of them into her arms and hold them until it was all better. She wanted to take away their pain, but she knew there was really no way she could do that. At that point, Matthew started to cry restlessly in Mark's arms. Rachel pulled back from Elizabeth's embrace and regarded her brother with a small smile. "Now, I've gotten everyone started," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.  
  
Elizabeth stood and took Matthew from Mark. "I'm sure it's time for a diaper change. I'll go check and then, Rachel, I'll get you something for the pain, ok," Elizabeth said as she walked toward the door.  
  
"Ok," Rachel replied. "Thank you."  
  
"Ella, sweetie, come with mommy," Elizabeth said, leaving Mark and Rachel alone in her bedroom.  
  
Mark and Rachel sat in silence momentarily before Rachel finally spoke. "I'm sorry, dad. I didn't mean to wake Matthew," she said as she turned toward the clothes scattered on the floor. She winced as another pain shot down her back.  
  
"Here, Rach. Let me help," Mark said as he stooped down beside her. After folding several items of her clothing, he said, "Rachel, I don't mean to lecture you, but you know that you have restrictions for at least the next three or four months. No extreme bending, twisting, stooping, lifting. . ."  
  
"I know, dad," Rachel interrupted. "But, I've been feeling really great lately. I guess I just thought I could do it myself."  
  
After they had once again packed her suitcase, Mark closed it up and sat it beside the door of her bedroom. Crossing the room and taking a seat beside her on the bed, he put his arm around her shoulders. Looking up at him, Rachel said, "This is just so unfair."  
  
"What do you mean, Rach?" Mark asked, concerned.  
  
They sat in silence momentarily, before Rachel responded. "Next year is my senior year of high school. I was supposed to be captain of the soccer team," she said.  
  
"I know, sweetheart. But, you still have three months of summer vacation before soccer even starts," Mark replied, trying to reassure her.  
  
"Not really, dad. Soccer Camp starts at the beginning of August; it's already the beginning of June now. If I'm not able to participate at camp, I won't get to be captain," Rachel said, hanging her head.  
  
Mark regarded her for a moment and then lifted her chin toward him. "You've always been a team player, Rach. Being captain really isn't what this is all about, is it?" He asked.  
  
Rachel looked at him guiltily and after a moment, she said, "Yes and no. I'm afraid that I won't get to play at all, but. . ." Tears started to trickle down her face as she admitted, "But the worst part is that if I'm not captain. . .Brianna will be. She was in the same car accident I was, but she can do everything she did before. And it just isn't fair!"  
  
As Rachel slumped into his arms, Mark held her tightly as she cried. He didn't know what to say. Life had thrown Rachel some bumps and bruises, and all he wanted to do was be there to make sure she would get through it, but he didn't know what to do in this situation.  
  
"She's my best friend, daddy," Rachel cried. "But sometimes I just hate her."  
  
"Come on, Rach," Mark soothed. "You don't mean that. It isn't her fault this happened."  
  
"I know, but. . .but the only reason she started playing soccer was because I did, and now, she's going to take that away from me," Rachel tried to rationalize.  
  
Pulling away from his daughter so he could look at her, Mark brushed the hair back from her face. Then, behind them they heard Elizabeth approach. Both looking in her direction, they saw that she was carrying a glass of water and a pill in her hands. "Do you want to take this now?" Elizabeth asked as she sat down on the other side of Rachel.  
  
"I guess," Rachel said. Taking the pill from her stepmother, she took it with a drink of water.  
  
"I didn't mean to wake Matthew," Rachel apologized again, but this time to Elizabeth.  
  
"Don't worry about it. He was wet, so he would have been up soon anyway," Elizabeth assured her.  
  
The three sat in silence for a moment before Mark spoke. "Rachel, listen. When we get back from London, we'll start training for soccer. If I'm not working late, I'll go jogging with you."  
  
"It hurts to run, dad," Rachel admitted, somewhat hesitantly.  
  
"Well, then we can start off slowly," Elizabeth pitched in. "We can just put Ella and Matthew in the double stroller and take walks. . .or go swimming."  
  
"I've got a weight bench in the basement that is just collecting dust, so we can do that, too," Mark said. "I think that if we spend a couple hours each night working out, then we'll have you back to normal in no time."  
  
"Tomorrow morning when we go for your physical therapy appointment, we'll talk to Melissa about it and see if she has any other suggestions, ok?" Elizabeth asked. "She has mentioned swimming and walking in the past, right?"  
  
"Yeah, it's just been so hard trying to keep up with school on top of everything else," Rachel said, her tears finally halted.  
  
"I know, sweetheart," Mark replied, pulling her toward him. "But things should start calming down now, and we're going to make sure you are captain of that team when August rolls around."  
  
"Thanks, dad," Rachel said as she hugged her father.  
  
Mark hugged her back, and as she continued to hold onto him, he looked up at Elizabeth who just smiled at him. She could tell how happy he was that his relationship with Rachel had finally taken a turn for the better. It was about time. Standing to leave so they could be alone, Elizabeth said, "Well, I need to go make sure Ella hasn't tried to shove her entire closet into her suitcase, so goodnight Rachel, and I'll see you in the morning." She walked toward the door and before she left, she added, "Your PT appointment is at 9:00, ok?"  
  
"Ok, Elizabeth. I'll be ready. Thank you," Rachel said as she pulled away from her father. After Elizabeth was out of the room, Rachel turned to face Mark, and asked, "Do you really think this will work, dad?"  
  
"Rachel, as much as I would like, I can't promise you that, but I really believe that if you work hard at it, then you can do it," Mark assured her.  
  
"I hope you're right," Rachel replied.  
  
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The next evening, the entire Greene family sat peacefully on a Boeing 777, American Airlines Flight 98; destination London, England. Rachel and Ella sat along the window, while Mark, Elizabeth, and Matthew were settled in the center row of seats.  
  
As Mark rested with his eyes closed in the seat to her right, Elizabeth sat reading, lost in her thoughts. "Gib Coulter, owner of The Mommy School was tall, dark, and sexy. When Janet opened the door upon hearing the ringing of its chimes, she couldn't believe that the entirely too handsome, fine specimen of man on her doorstep was. . ."  
  
Elizabeth shook her head slightly, trying to stop the wonderings of her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she just wasn't able to keep her thoughts confined solely to the book, and with every word she read, the images of herself and Mark replaced those of the story's characters. This book was definitely having a greater effect on her than she had anticipated upon buying it the day before. Too sexy. . .fine specimen of a man. The words she read kept turning her thoughts to Mark.  
  
Glancing sidelong in his direction, she couldn't help but admire his every feature. The tiny glasses he wore that made him look so sharp. . .so sexy. The strong curve of his jaw that always seemed to hold a shadow, no matter what time of day it was or how often he shaved. His ears. His chin. His. . .lips. Those tender and moist lips that had, at one point or another, touched every inch of her body. His neck. His shoulders. His arms. His. . .hands. God, those hand; strong but gentle. What he could do with those hands. The parts of her that those hands had stroked and caressed.  
  
Running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, she realized that her right thigh was tingling under the touch of his hand that had been resting there for the past hour. Sitting there, she silently admitted to herself that this man. . .the man she had been married to for the past four years. . .the father of her children. . .could turn her on in ways she wasn't sure anyone else would ever understand.  
  
Feeling her body begin to warm, she tried desperately to break her stare and return to her book, but not before he sensed her gaze. "What?" He asked, as he opened his eyes and looked at her.  
  
She tried to divert his gaze, looking downward, but he asked again, "What are you staring at, Elizabeth?"  
  
Looking up from her book, she stammered, "Nothing. . .it's. . .it's nothing."  
  
Not believing her for a moment, he suspiciously asked, "What're you reading?" As he reached to grab the book from her hands, she tried to resist, but finally giving in, she bit her bottom lip as he turned the cover in his direction. Regarding it curiously, he read, "The Mommy School. A Harlequin Romance." Looking up from the book, he raised his eyebrows at her.  
  
"What," she asked, a moment later. Chuckling softly, she continued, "Is there something wrong?"  
  
"I just never thought. . .never mind," Mark replied smugly as he settled back into his seat.  
  
She playfully slapped him across his chest and said, "Look, we're on vacation. Give me a break. Besides. . ." she paused. "It's not like it's total filth."  
  
"Whatever you say," he laughed as he once again closed his eyes, the smile still plastered across his face.  
  
She watched him momentarily, biting the side of her cheek, but then settled back into her own seat to continue reading.  
  
A while later, she felt Mark stir beside her. "Hey," he said as he touched her arm. "I'll be right back," he whispered as he stood and made his way toward the bathrooms near the front of their seating section.  
  
Looking up from her book, she simply nodded. Watching intently as he made his way down the aisle of the plane, she deliberately admired the play of his clothing against his back and bottom. Grinning, she sighed as she quietly placed her book down on his empty seat. Glancing at Matthew to assure that he was still sleeping soundly, she asked, "Rachel, I need to use the restroom. Will you keep an eye on Ella and Matthew for me?"  
  
Looking up from her laptop, Rachel replied, "Sure, Elizabeth. Go ahead."  
  
Elizabeth stood and quickly made her way down the aisle. As she approached the lavatories, she noticed that only one sign read occupied. Certain that it had to be Mark in there, she thought momentarily before giving in and reaching her hand up to knock gently.  
  
"Just a moment," came his voice.  
  
She smiled and then leaning closer to the door, she said, "Mark. It's Elizabeth. I. . .I need you."  
  
He opened the door almost immediately, concern evident on his face. "What, what's going. . ." But before he could finish, she had already pushed her way through the door, pinning him against the wall of the tiny restroom. "'Lizabe. . ." he protested, but by now, she had grabbed the sides of his face and planted her lips firmly against his. She continued to kiss him roughly as her hands immediately moved to his belt. Breaking away from her at last, Mark looked into the soft haze in his wife's eyes and smiled. Breathlessly, he asked, "What are you doing?"  
  
Elizabeth continued her work at his pants and then reaching behind her, she slid the lever of the door down, assuring that it was locked. Looking back at him, she admitted, "Mark, we're going to be stuck on this airplane for at least five more hours."  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but she had already covered his lips with hers again. Grabbing the top of his pants, hindering her pursuit to remove the offensive garment, he once again tore himself away from her. ". . .but that doesn't mean we have to. . .do this. . .on an airplane!" he said eagerly.  
  
"Yes, Mark, I think it does," she replied coyly. "We never have any time alone anymore, and you've had your hand resting on my leg the entire trip. You're driving me crazy," she growled as she finally was able to drop his pants to the floor.  
  
Regarding the seductive gleam in her eyes, he couldn't help himself as he leaned forward, forcefully capturing her mouth. "Mmm, Elizabeth," he moaned.  
  
Pulling away from him, she placed her index finger against his lips. "Quiet, Mark. No more talking," she whispered luxuriously as she once again forced his body against the wall of the tiny compartment.  
  
'It's useless to argue with the woman,' Mark thought in defeat. Forcefully driving himself against her, he lost his balance slightly; arms flailing toward her as he tumbled backwards, hitting his head against the wall.  
  
Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh and leaning forward, she whispered through her amusement, "Are you ok?"  
  
Regarding the glimmer in her eyes, he chuckled as he reached behind him to touch the back of his head. "God, that hurt," he admitted.  
  
She watched him sympathetically for a moment, but then reached behind his head to replace his hand with her own. Gently rubbing her hand against the small knot she felt forming there, she quietly asked, "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"  
  
All he could he could do was laugh as he said, "That's one thing you could do." Pulling his head toward her, she kissed him deeply as she felt his hands once again return to her hips.  
  
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Finally lifting his head from her shoulder, he looked into her eyes, and chuckled softly. "I can't believe we just did this," he replied, still laughing.  
  
"Now what do you have to say about my selection of books?" She asked sarcastically before leaning forward to briefly touch her lips to his.  
  
He only smiled at her as she then stood from his lap and tried to straighten her disheveled clothing. Pulling up his pants, and tucking in his shirt as he watched her begin to open the door, he stopped her. "Hey, let me go back first. Make it less obvious."  
  
She nodded her approval, and as he started to open the door, he turned back around and whispering against her lips, he said, "I love you."  
  
She chuckled as their lips met and when the kiss came to an end, she jokingly said, "After that, how could you not?"  
  
He only rolled his eyes at her as he stepped out of the small lavatory. Upon returning to his seat, he found Rachel still typing on her laptop, headphones in her ears, totally oblivious to his arrival. Matthew still slept peacefully in his seat, and Ella had shifted to rest her head against her pillow situated against the window.   
  
A few minutes later, he looked up to see his wife making her way up the aisle, looking inconspicuous and completely put together. He couldn't help but smile at her when she caught his gaze.  
  
Taking a seat beside him, Elizabeth briefly kissed his cheek as he felt her place something in his lap. Looking down, he noticed her panties folded neatly and placed strategically at the front of his pants. "I thought you could keep these as a souvenir," she whispered hoarsely into his ear.  
  
"You are so bad," he chuckled as he hurried to put them into his carry-on bag.  
  
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"I can't believe I'm going back to England," Elizabeth sighed five and a half hours later as she closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her seat.  
  
Mark regarded her curiously and gently said, "I thought you wanted to come back. Have you changed your mind?"  
  
She paused a moment and blew out a long breath. "No, it's not that, exactly. I do want to see mother and daddy but. . ." Elizabeth stopped as she opened her eyes and looked in his direction. "It's just that so much has changed. I've changed. My life has changed."  
  
"Hopefully it's changed in a good way," Mark commented, smiling.  
  
Looking into his eyes, she returned his smile. Shrugging her shoulders, she teased, "I don't know. Maybe."   
  
Mark's jaw dropped in mock surprise, as she leaned over to kiss his cheek squeezing his hand. "Thank you," she said quietly.  
  
"For what?" He asked as he grinned and pulled her toward him.  
  
"For this trip. For earlier on the plane. . ." she paused, grinning. "For just being here with me," Elizabeth stated.  
  
Mark started to respond but was interrupted by the flight attendant's voice over the intercom. "Good morning. The captain has just turned on the seatbelt sign as we start our decent into Heathrow Airport. At this time, please make sure that all carry-on bags are secured in the overhead compartments above or under the seat in front of you. The local time is 8:08am, and we should be landing in approximately fifteen minutes. Thank you again for flying American Airlines."  
  
As Mark leaned forward to place their carry-on bags under the seat, Elizabeth reached over to assure that the seatbelt restraining Matthew's seat was firmly secured. Looking across the aisle to where Ella slept with her head on Rachel's shoulder, she asked, "Rach, is Ella buckled?"  
  
"Yeah. She's fine," Rachel replied.  
  
Leaning back into her seat and fastening her own seatbelt, she sighed and then took Mark's hand in hers. He looked in her direction and asked, "You ok?"  
  
"Just anxious I guess," she admitted. "No matter how much time has passed or how well I get along with my parents, something about seeing them always makes me rather nervous."  
  
Mark squeezed her hand, saying, "You'll be fine, Elizabeth. And if not, I'm here for you, ok?"  
  
"I know. Thank you," she smiled.  
  
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Entering her father's flat over two hours later, Elizabeth adjusted Matthew from one arm to the other before searching the quiet house for her father. Mark entered closely behind her, carrying a sleeping Ella. "Daddy," she called quietly, trying not to wake Ella.  
  
When they were all finally in the house, Mark walked toward a couch in the living room and placed Ella there. Looking back toward Elizabeth he said, "I'm going to go get everything out of the car. I'll be right back."  
  
"Ok," Elizabeth answered before calling again, "Daddy."  
  
Upon her third call, Charles finally appeared from the room Elizabeth knew to be the study. "Darling," Charles exclaimed when he saw her. "I'm sorry. I was on the telephone with the hospital." Elizabeth nodded her head knowingly as she hugged her father. "How was your flight?" Charles asked, reaching his arms out to take Matthew from her.  
  
"It went surprisingly. . .well," Elizabeth commented, grinning as she thought of the time she and Mark had spent in the plane's bathroom. Recovering from her reverie and motioning toward Ella on the couch, she continued, "She slept most of the time, and Matthew was great."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it. Where's Mark?" Charles asked as he surveyed the room for his missing son-in-law.  
  
"He's gathering our things from the car," Elizabeth answered as she took a seat beside Ella on the couch. "Are you sure you don't mind if we stay here?" She asked after a moment.  
  
"Of course not, Elizabeth," Charles stated. "I wouldn't have it any other way." Just then, Mark walked through the door with several bags in hand, Rachel following behind. "Mark," Charles greeted. "Rachel, it's good to see you. How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm doing ok," Rachel nodded.  
  
"Let me give you a hand, Mark," Charles insisted.  
  
Setting the bags he carried down, Mark shook Charles' free hand and then noticing that his father-in-law was holding Matthew, he said, "No, that's ok. It looks like you already have your hands full. But I will let you direct me to where I can put all of this."  
  
"Of course," Charles remarked. "Follow me."  
  
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Later that day, Elizabeth rested in the bedroom that belonged to her so many years ago, with Matthew asleep beside her. She was exhausted after their flight and had tried to get some sleep, but for the past half hour, she could do nothing but watch her sleeping son. He was only six months old, but she felt like she knew him so well; felt so close to him. Pondering that thought, she sadly considered that she indeed felt closer to him than she had Ella at this age. As she watched, she ran the index finger of her right hand along the smoothness of one of his chubby cheeks. Her little boy. He shared many of Ella's features, but he was uniquely himself. Much to her surprise, they both had her bright green eyes, not their daddy's chocolate ones, which she'd often envisioned them having during her pregnancies.   
  
Running her hand gently over the soft wisps of wavy brown hair that had just started to appear on his tiny head, she sighed. "It's going to be different this time, Matthew," she whispered. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, sweetheart. Mommy promises to protect you."  
  
She closed her eyes briefly, but opened them again a moment later when she heard the door open. Gazing across the room, she saw Mark quietly walk toward her. "Hey," she called softly.  
  
"Hey," he whispered, noticing the sleeping baby. "I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"I wasn't asleep," she admitted with a sigh. "I was just lying here watching him." Pausing a moment, she then asked, "Where are Ella and Rachel?"  
  
Climbing onto the bed on the opposite side of Matthew, he faced her, saying, "You're father decided to take them on a driving tour of the city. I volunteered to go with them to help with Ella, but he said he'd like to spend some time with them himself."  
  
Elizabeth chuckled as she shook her head. "That man is never going to slow down, and I'm sure Ella is going to give him a run for his money," she replied. "He and mother both run around like they're children sometimes."  
  
After a moment, Elizabeth got quiet as she continued to watch Matthew. Softly stroking the baby's stomach, she stopped when Mark placed his hand over hers. Looking up at him, she smiled into his eyes. "What are you thinking?" Mark asked quietly.  
  
Elizabeth sighed as she pondered how to answer his question. "Just about Matthew. . .and Ella. And you."  
  
"Anything good?" He asked with a smile.  
  
Elizabeth hesitated momentarily before speaking. "Mark, do you ever think about just how wonderful we have it? I mean, we have beautiful, healthy children. Jobs we love. . .friends," she paused as she sighed. "I think about that sometimes, but then I start to really, really think. And every time, I come to the same conclusion. None of that would truly matter to me unless I had you. We have all these things, but to me. . .the most important. . .is that we have each other. That we share all of this."   
  
He stared at her momentarily, unsure of what to say. He was slightly speechless by her admonition, and could do nothing but look at her, taking her all in. "What?" She finally asked, turning shyly from his gaze.  
  
"You're beautiful," he finally answered. "And I love you."  
  
She playfully smacked his arm as she teasingly scolded, "I'm being serious, Mark," although she was inwardly delighted by his remark.  
  
"You think I'm not?" He asked. Regarding the smile that lingered on her face, he propped himself up to look down at her.  
  
Moving to rest her head on her left hand as she settled herself on her elbow, she met his gaze straight on, and shifting her other hand from where it rested on Matthew's stomach, she reached over to stroke the side of Mark's face. Allowing it to linger momentarily before placing it beside her on the bed, she quietly admitted, "It's just that I never really thought I would have all this. When I was a little girl, I had these romantic notions of being a bride, but I never really imagined what came after that. I never pictured myself with a husband. . .let alone a step daughter and two children of my own, whom I completely adore."  
  
They sat in silence momentarily looking at each other. "Elizabeth... I..." he spoke, but then paused, shaking his head at his loss for words. She wasn't the only one who had been given more than she ever thought possible. Thinking back to before Ella was even born, he knew exactly how lucky he was to be there with her; with their children. Finally, he said, "I'm just glad I'm here to share all of that with you."  
  
Quietly watching him after he spoke, she slowly leaned over Matthew toward Mark, touching her lips to his. Once the kiss ended, she pulled back slightly, whispering against his mouth, "Me, too."  
  
Briefly kissing her again, he then pulled back and smiled. Motioning toward their sleeping son, he asked, "How long has he been out?"  
  
"About a half hour," she replied. "He was fussy and fought sleep for a while, but then finally settled down."  
  
"Did you get any sleep yourself?" Mark asked.  
  
"No, not really. I think I dozed for a while right after he fell asleep, but nothing more than that," she said.  
  
Mark nodded and then asked, "So what's on our agenda for tomorrow? Have you made any plans?"  
  
"Mother invited us for lunch, but nothing other than that," Elizabeth replied. "Why? Did you have something in mind?" She asked.  
  
"I kind of thought Rachel and I could spend the day together," he said hesitantly. "Is that all right with you?"  
  
"Of course, Mark," she answered honestly. "Do you even know where you're going or what you're doing, though?" Elizabeth asked with a chuckle.  
  
"We're going to be true. . .red-blooded. . .American. . .tourists," Mark replied, jokingly. "With cameras and everything."  
  
Elizabeth laughed in response, and then replied, "I think I'll just take Ella and Matthew to mother's tomorrow morning when you and Rachel leave, then. We'll spend the day there and meet back up here tomorrow evening."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Mark stated, rolling onto his back. "What about your father?"  
  
"Daddy works ten until six tomorrow. So, I'm sure he won't mind. I'll just make dinner for everyone when we get back."  
  
"This is your vacation, Elizabeth. Remember that, all right," Mark replied, regarding her earnestly.  
  
"How could I forget?" Elizabeth chuckled. "You've only been reminding me of it every two minutes and. . .after our little. . .adventure on the plane this morning, I would say that no matter what happens for the rest of our stay here, this vacation is already one of the best I've ever had."  
  
Mark laughed, but then moved his eyes from Elizabeth to Matthew. Grinning mischievously, he stood from the bed, gently picking the sleeping baby up and carrying him to the other side of the room, placing him in the playpen. Rolling to face him, Elizabeth asked, "What are you doing?"  
  
Mark didn't respond, but instead knelt down at the side of the bed, positioning himself in front of her as she lay on her side, facing him. A small, quiet sigh escaped him and he fought the urge, not very successfully, to let a wide, slightly goofy grin, cover his face.  
  
"What's that silly grin for?" Elizabeth asked with a chuckle.   
  
He gazed down at her with a suggestive leer as he started to unbutton the buttons of her blouse. She laughed again, before sobering enough to take on a stern look. "Mark Greene!" She started. "Is that all you think about?" She chided, throwing him a reproachful glance.   
  
Mark couldn't help but laugh. "Me?" He exclaimed, stopping his work on the buttons of her shirt. "If I recall correctly, I was the one who was attacked in the bathroom of an airplane early this morning."  
  
"You were attacked?" Elizabeth teased. "Mark! Why didn't you tell me?"   
  
He regarded her, jokingly shaking his head.   
  
"How's your head, by the way?" She asked after a moment.  
  
Taking her hand in his, he guided it to the back of his head where she felt the bump that was still present. Sitting up in front of him on the edge of the bed, her hand remained at the back of his head, stroking it gently. "I'm sorry," she said seriously, a gleam in her eyes.  
  
"I'm sure I could think of a few ways for you to make it up to me," he grinned. Reaching up, his fingers splayed to frame her face, bringing it toward him to meet his lips against hers in a warm, passionate kiss; a gentle yet demanding caress that, even after six years, still had the power to take her by surprise. Moving his hands from her face, they slid down her arms, forcing hers from the back of his head. Pulling her closer to the edge of the bed, he slid his hands across her back, before pushing them into her hair as he guided his lips across her cheekbone and down her jaw.   
  
Finally relaxing into his ministration, she closed her eyes and tossed her head back slightly on her shoulders as she felt his hot open-mouthed caresses trail across her neck. Bringing her head forward, Elizabeth moaned quietly, aware that Matthew was sleeping just feet away, and nuzzled the tip of her nose across the firm line of his jaw. As her own hands explored his back, smoothing their way across his t-shirt, she paused. "Should we do this? With Matthew in the room?" She whispered hesitantly before dipping the tip of her tongue into the shell of his ear.   
  
"Yeah. . ." he answered, gently pushing her knees apart. "He's asleep. . .and we'll be very quiet," he finished as his hands moved to her waist pulling her up closer against him while his lips explored her neck.   
  
While one hand caressed the smooth skin of her side, the other settled under her hair to stroke the nape of her neck, drawing her in for a lazy kiss. Deepening the contact of their lips, he let his fingers trail down her spine, clasping them around her waist. Feeling her slight hesitation, he pulled back. "What is it?" He asked seriously.  
  
Elizabeth smiled and brought her arms up around his neck. "Making love to you in my old bedroom. I find that. . .incredibly arousing," she admitted.   
  
Standing from where he knelt between her legs, Mark reached down, taking her face in his hands, pulling her smoothly to stand. "I think we really need to do something about that, then," he commented before his lips found hers again and his hands pushed themselves deep into the thick tresses of her hair.  
  
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After a long moment, Elizabeth reached to stroke her trembling fingers through his hair, sighing softly. Hearing her small sound of pleasure, Mark gently eased himself from her, and gathering her in his arms and rolling onto his back, he took her with him to lay sprawled against his chest. She closed her eyes, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips as she rested her cheek against his chest. His arms cradled her gently and after a time, his hands began to stroke lightly across her back. Mark felt her breath, warm against the skin of his chest and then smiled when he heard her begin to laugh quietly.   
  
Raising his brow and looking down toward her, he asked, "What?"   
  
Moving so she could look at him, she smiled, saying, "This vacation is definitely off to an excellent start, Mark. That was. . .amazing."  
  
"Mmm Hmm," he murmured. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he laughed as he leaned forward to place a kiss at her temple.   
  
"Too bad Matthew will be up soon," she replied with a sigh. "I think I could spend the rest of the evening right here, just like this."  
  
Mark thought momentarily, and then replied, "Maybe next time, just the two of us need to take a little trip. A long weekend?" He wondered.  
  
"Mmm," she murmured. "We haven't done that in a while."  
  
"A very long while," Mark reminded her with a nod.   
  
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The next morning, Elizabeth stood at the front of Isabelle's flat, one arm holding Matthew and the other poised to knock on the wooden door. Pausing momentarily, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm her nerves at the thought of spending the day with her mother.  
  
"Come on, mommy," Ella exclaimed, impatiently pulling on Elizabeth's leg. "I want to see grandma!"  
  
"All right, all right," Elizabeth replied with a smile, giving in and knocking on the door. She could hear several voices from inside the flat and hoped that she wasn't interrupting anything. Moments later, a woman, whom Elizabeth did not recognize, appeared at the door. "Umm. . .hi," Elizabeth said uncertainly.  
  
"Elizabeth," the older woman responded with a kind smile. Elizabeth regarded her warily, wondering how exactly she knew her name. "My name is Lillian. I'm one of the members of Isabelle's book club. We were just finishing up our meeting," she said as she motioned for Elizabeth to come into the house.  
  
Hesitantly stepping forward, Elizabeth reached down, grabbing Ella's hand. "Where's my grandma?" Ella innocently asked Lillian.  
  
Lillian peered down at Ella's beautiful face and smiled. "And you. . ." Lillian stated before crouching down to Ella's level. ". . .you must be Ella."  
  
Ella's face lit up as she asked, "How'd you know?"  
  
"Your grandmother has told me all about you," Lillian explained conspiratorially. Standing as she took Ella's hand, she looked at Elizabeth, saying, "This way. Everyone is in the sitting room."  
  
When they entered the next room, Elizabeth searched the group of women for her mother. Upon spotting her, Elizabeth was slightly taken aback by what she saw. She looked so. . .old. But, that wasn't all. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that for the first time in her life, her mother actually looked unkempt. From the tousled hair on her head to her clothing that lacked its usual dry-cleaned crispness; and this was definitely the first time she had ever seen her mother without make-up.  
  
Elizabeth was soon shaken from her thoughts upon hearing Ella yell, "Grandma!" Watching the little girl run across the room to where Isabelle sat on the sofa, Elizabeth couldn't help but smile. 'Maybe she just slept in this morning,' she thought to herself, trying to brush off what she saw.  
  
"Ella, sweetheart," Isabelle called as she hugged Ella who was, by now, seated comfortably on her lap.  
  
"Ella, grandma has guests," Elizabeth scolded gently. "Come here."  
  
"She's fine, Elizabeth," Isabelle assured her daughter. "We were just finishing up."  
  
"And who is this little one," one of the other women asked as she chuckled at the sight of Matthew squirming in Elizabeth's arms.  
  
"Evelyn, that's my grandson, Mark," Isabelle beamed up at the baby proudly. "He's six months old," Isabelle finished before Ella quickly grabbed her arm, trying to once again possess her grandmother's full attention.  
  
"Matthew, mother," Elizabeth stated as Matthew took hold of a lock of her hair with one of his tiny hands.   
  
"What?" Isabelle asked, not looking up from where she was talking to Ella.  
  
"His name is Matthew," Elizabeth sighed, trying to pry her hair from the baby's tight grasp. Isabelle regarded her daughter slightly confused, the smile fading from her face. When Isabelle didn't respond, Elizabeth repeated, "The baby's name is Matthew."  
  
"Of course," Isabelle finally stated, noticing that the attention of her friends had moved from the children to herself. "His father's name is Mark," she quickly recovered. "Where is that husband of yours, anyway, Elizabeth?" Isabelle asked, promptly turning back to Ella.  
  
Elizabeth stood momentarily, watching her mother, but was still preoccupied by one of Matthew's hands that somehow had made its way from her hair to hook itself onto her nose. "Matthew, please," Elizabeth sighed.  
  
Pausing momentarily, and finally taking hold of the baby's wondering hands, Elizabeth's full attention was now directed toward her mother. She then explained, "He decided to spend the day with Rachel."  
  
"Who is Rachel?" Another woman asked.  
  
Opening her mouth to speak, Elizabeth was interrupted by her mother, "Rachel is Elizabeth's stepdaughter." Regarding Elizabeth's inquiring look, Isabelle said, "Oh my, where are my manners? Elizabeth, you met Lillian at the door," and then motioning toward the women who sat around the sitting room, she said, "And this is Laurel. . .Constance. . .Jeanine. . .Evelyn, and. . .Ma. . . Mabel."  
  
"It's nice to meet all of you," Elizabeth stated politely, trying to hide the worried expression on her face.   
  
Just then, Matthew started to whimper, obviously upset by the tight hold his mother now had on him. Taking a seat in the armchair across from her mother, Elizabeth bounced the baby on one of her knees, trying successfully to appease him. "I didn't realize we would be interrupting anything, mother," she said once Matthew had calmed.  
  
"You're not interrupting a thing, dear," Constance interjected. "We were just finishing our tea."  
  
"I didn't realize you would be stopping by today, Elizabeth," Isabelle stated callously. "I thought we were having lunch tomorrow."  
  
Elizabeth paused her motions with Matthew, uncertain if she had mistaken the day of her mother's invitation. Unsure of what to think of Isabelle's remark, she asked, "Was it tomorrow? I'm sorry, I was sure you said today."  
  
The members of the book club regarded each other warily, sensing the tension that had now formed in the room. Standing from her seat beside Isabelle, Mabel cautiously said, "Ladies, don't you think we should leave Isabelle to visit with her family?"  
  
"Of course," Constance replied hastily.  
  
"Yes, we should have left over a half hour ago," Jeanine added.  
  
As the women assembled to leave, Elizabeth stood from her position in the armchair, following them into the foyer in order to bid her farewells. "Goodbye, ladies," she started. "It was wonderful to meet you."  
  
"Likewise, dear," Lillian said, as she paused, watching the other women exit the door.  
  
"I'll see you next week, Lil," Isabelle said as Ella dragged her back into the sitting room.  
  
Elizabeth started to turn to follow, but noticed that Lillian remained, obviously pondering something. "Is everything all right, Lillian?" She asked.  
  
The older woman sighed. "I noticed the look on your face in the sitting room, earlier, Elizabeth," she started. "I. . .I'm worried about her, too."  
  
Elizabeth regarded the woman questioningly and then looked into the sitting room to assure that her mother was busy with Ella. Ushering Lillian into the kitchen, they both sat at the breakfast nook. Still holding Matthew, Elizabeth sighed. "What do you mean?"  
  
Lillian paused. "She's been. . .forgetful. . .for about a year or so now, but. . ."   
  
"I didn't notice anything when she was in Chicago for Christmas," Elizabeth interrupted. "She seemed completely. . .mother."  
  
"It comes and goes," Lillian continued. "Some weeks worse than others and some even worse than those," Lillian stated, shaking her head. "Things had actually taken a turn for the better until a few weeks ago. . ." she paused, looking down.  
  
"What?" Elizabeth prompted. When the woman did not respond, Elizabeth moved closer to her, sitting Matthew up on the table in front of her. Gently touching her arm, Elizabeth pleaded, "Please, Lillian. I need to know."  
  
Looking up, Lillian saw the concern in Elizabeth's eyes. Looking from her to Matthew, she smiled. "A few weeks ago," she began, "We were shopping. Somehow we got separated in the store. I called her cellular phone, I called here," Lillian continued, motioning toward the phone handing on the wall in the kitchen. "I couldn't find her anywhere, Elizabeth. Finally, about three hours later, your father called. . ."  
  
"My father?" Elizabeth interrupted.  
  
Nodding her head, Lillian continued. "She hailed a taxi outside the shopping center because she forgot that we were there together. She had finished her shopping and was ready to leave, but she couldn't remember how to get home. Somehow, by the grace of God, she ended up there. On your father's doorstep."  
  
"Why didn't anyone call me?" Elizabeth asked hastily. "My father should have told me."  
  
"He probably didn't want you to worry, dear. He knows you have a family and a life of your own," Lillian replied, trying to reassure Elizabeth.  
  
"But I do worry. How could I not worry?" Elizabeth asked, shaking her head.  
  
"Worry about what, Elizabeth?" Isabelle asked, now standing at the kitchen door, Ella in her arms.  
  
Lillian and Elizabeth looked, both obviously surprised to see her standing there. ". . .I'm still a little. . .worried about. . .Rachel. . ." Elizabeth lied. "I was just telling Lillian about her accident."  
  
"You worry too much, Elizabeth. Even as a child. . ."  
  
"I know, mother," Elizabeth interrupted. Sighing, she continued, "You've been telling me that for years."  
  
"Maybe you should start listening, then," Isabelle pointed out. "Maybe I know what I'm talking about."  
  
Lillian regarded Elizabeth warily, taking in Isabelle's ironic statement. "Well," she finally said, "I've worn out my welcome here. I think I should be going now."  
  
"Stay for lunch," Elizabeth insisted.  
  
"No, I really should be going. But it was lovely talking with you, Elizabeth," Lillian said as she stood from the breakfast nook.  
  
"I'm hungry, mommy," Ella said, squirming in her grandmother's arms until Isabelle gently placed her on the floor.   
  
"Just a few minutes. Alright, sweetheart?" Elizabeth replied. "Come sit here," she said, patting the cushion of the bench she sat on. "I'll start lunch."  
  
"Come on, Lil. I'll walk you to the door," Isabelle stated.   
  
Turing from Ella, Elizabeth said, "Lillian, we should talk again some time."  
  
"Of course, Elizabeth. I would absolutely love to meet your husband and stepdaughter," Lillian replied. "But if we don't get the chance, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay."  
  
"Bye, Lillian," Ella chimed in from across the room.   
  
"Goodbye, darling," Lillian answered with a smile. Taking Matthew's tiny hand as Elizabeth held him in her arms, she shook it gently before turning to follow Isabelle to the door.  
  
When Isabelle returned to the kitchen moments later, Elizabeth had placed Matthew into his carrier that she had left in the sitting room earlier, while she stood at the center island slicing an apple for Ella.   
  
"Come on, grandma," Ella said before taking a bite of the slice of apple she held him her hand. "Mommy is making us lunch."  
  
"Elizabeth," Isabelle began. "Sit down. I'll do that."  
  
"No, mother, it's all right. Go ahead and sit with Ella. What kind of sandwich would you like?" Elizabeth asked as she turned toward the refrigerator.   
  
"Turkey on Rye if you don't mind," Isabelle stated as she lifted Matthew and his carrier from the island before placing him on the table and taking a seat next to Ella.   
  
Elizabeth paused as she peered into the refrigerator. Turning around, she watched her mother as she played with Matthew. "Turkey on Rye?" Elizabeth asked. "Did I hear you correctly?"  
  
"Yes, Elizabeth," Isabelle stated with a confused glance. "Turkey on Rye."  
  
"Are you certain, mother?" Elizabeth asked warily. "It's just that for as long as I can remember, I thought you hated Rye bread."  
  
Isabelle pondered her daughter's remark, but without responding, she despondently turned back to her grandchildren.  
  
"Mommy says you have castles where princesses live, grandma. Will you take me to see them?" Ella asked happily.   
  
Isabelle did not respond, only smiling down at her your granddaughter and nodding slightly.   
  
Most of lunch was spent in silence as Isabelle barely ate anything and as Ella babbled on about how excited she was to be starting pre-school in the fall.   
  
". . .And daddy says that all the kids I like to play with at the park will be in my class. . .and Rachel goes to the big school down the street, grandma," Ella stated. "But, Matthew can't go yet, though, 'cause he's too little."  
  
Elizabeth couldn't help but watch Isabelle's expressions as she listened to Ella. The confusion written across her face as the little girl spoke could not go unnoticed, and Elizabeth knew she needed to find out what was going on with her mother.   
  
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"Grandpa!" Ella called later that evening as she ran toward Charles as he entered the house.  
  
Picking up the cheerful little girl, he carried her back into the kitchen, where he saw Elizabeth bending down to assess what was baking in the oven. "How was your day, darling?" Charles asked as he crossed the room toward her. Elizabeth didn't respond, but glared at him before she returned her attention back to the stuffed pasta shells she was preparing for dinner.  
  
"We went to see grandma, today," Ella answered. "We ate lunch and played with Lillian. . .and grandma showed us pictures of mommy when she was as big as me. . .and. . ."  
  
"I'm sure grandpa doesn't want to talk about grandma right now, sweetheart," Elizabeth said pointedly as she sharply closed the door to the oven. "He's had a long day at work and probably doesn't feel the need to talk about grandma. Why don't you tell him about your day later, ok?" She calmed a bit.  
  
"Elizabeth. . ."  
  
"But, mommy. . ." they spoke simultaneously, both regarding her with the same stubborn glare.  
  
Elizabeth returned her father's glare as she lifted Matthew from the playpen that sat in the middle of the kitchen floor. "He needs changing," she replied. "Could you keep an eye on dinner?"  
  
Without waiting for a response, she exited the room and started up the stairs to the bedroom. Moments later, there was a soft knock at the other side of the door. "Come in," she called hastily.  
  
Charles entered the room and sat down at the desk in the corner of the bedroom. "Did you need something?" She asked harshly, looking up from the bed where Matthew lay.  
  
"What's wrong with you this evening, Elizabeth?" He asked. Shaking his head, he continued, ". . .Cutting Ella off like that. . .you shouldn't. . ."  
  
"Oh, don't even start with a lecture on my parenting skills," she challenged.  
  
"Elizabeth. . ." He began.  
  
"Daddy!" She countered, glaring at him.  
  
"Your mother?" He questioned.  
  
"You think?" She spat sarcastically. "I can't believe you would keep something like this from me. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"  
  
"What could you have done? You live an entire ocean away, Elizabeth. You have a family of your own, and I didn't want to worry you."  
  
"Not worry? Not worry?" She hissed, her anger rising. "She's my mother!"  
  
"I know that, Elizabeth," Charles stated firmly as he stood from his seat.   
  
"When were you planning on telling me, dad?" Elizabeth asked as she completed Matthew's diaper change.   
  
"When. . ." he paused.  
  
"When she was lying in a hospital bed, unable to speak or feed herself? Is that when?" She finished hastily.  
  
"Elizabeth. . ." he warned.  
  
She paused as she watched him. "Do you. . .do you even care?" She spat.  
  
"Do I care," Charles repeated with a rueful laugh. "You, my dear, have no idea."  
  
"Well tell me then," she demanded.  
  
He regarded her momentarily, but then said, "Who do you think was the one who took her to the best doctors at our hospital? Who do you think has been making sure someone is with her for most of the day?" So, Elizabeth, don't even ask if I care."  
  
"You should have told me then. I could have helped."  
  
"How?" Charles asked. "Your life isn't here anymore. You made the decision to leave here eight years ago. . .to have a husband. . .to have a family."  
  
"Are you blaming me? For being happy?" She defied him.  
  
Charles regarded his daughter as she lifted his grandson from the bed. Crossing the room toward her, he said, "No. Not at all, Elizabeth. Obviously, that was one of the best decisions you have ever made. I'm just saying that I didn't. . .I don't expect you to drop everything to be here."  
  
She soon calmed as some rational thought made it's way back into her mind. "You still should have told me," she conceded. "What do the doctors say?" She asked after a moment. "What is it? Stage 2 Alzheimer's Disease?"  
  
"Stage 3, actually," He answered with a sigh. "Because she has some mild cognitive decline, they said that she qualifies for the Early Confusional Stage."  
  
Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes as she felt the tears spring to them. "I can't believe this is happening."  
  
"I know, darling. I know," Charles tried to comfort her as she held Matthew in her arms.  
  
"Elizabeth! I can't believe you didn't tell me. . ." Came Mark's joking voice as he entered the bedroom shaking his head with a laugh. Seeing his wife embracing her father, though, he halted, his face falling. "Oh," he said as he stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry."  
  
When she saw Mark, Elizabeth pulled away from her father and hastily wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand. "Mark!" She called. "How was your day out?"  
  
Mark regarded her warily, wanting to ask what had brought her to tears, but realizing that at that moment, she obviously didn't want to talk about whatever it was. "It was good," he finally said. "We had a nice time."  
  
"Good," Charles interjected. "If you'll excuse me, though, I'm going to change for dinner."  
  
Elizabeth just nodded as Charles kissed the side of her head and left the room. Mark watched her from where he had halted across the room as she once again tried to hide her tears by wiping them away. "Come on, Mark. Dinner is almost ready, and I want to hear about your day," she finally said with a weak smile as she walked closer to him, planning on walking out the door.  
  
Stopping her by gently grabbing her arm, he turned her toward him before taking Matthew from her. "Hey, little man," he began, bouncing Matthew in his arms. "Can you tell me what made mommy cry?" He asked the baby before regarding Elizabeth seriously.  
  
Elizabeth smirked at him, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. "Well at least I managed to get a little smile from you. What's wrong?" He asked after returning her smile.  
  
"Not right now, all right," she commented with a sigh. "After dinner, once the kids are asleep."  
  
He regarded her suspiciously, but then finally conceded. "Ok, but the kids are going to bed early tonight," he smiled as he placed his free hand at the small of her back and ushered her out the door.  
  
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Around 9:30pm that evening, after Ella and Rachel had settled onto the twin beds in the spare bedroom of Charles' flat, Elizabeth stood in the shower trying to calm her nerves. Dinner had been spent with Rachel excitedly talking about her day around the city with Mark while Elizabeth told some stories of her childhood in London. Charles sat quietly through most of dinner, only offering a few comments before retiring to his bedroom shortly thereafter.  
  
Mark sat in a love seat in the corner of the bedroom as he tried to get Matthew to sleep. Looking up, he saw Elizabeth enter in a robe; a towel around her head.  
  
"Is he giving you a hard time?" Elizabeth asked, seeing Matthew squirming in his father's arms.   
  
"Yeah," Mark sighed. "He's just like his mother."  
  
"What?" She asked jokingly as she pulled the towel from her hair. "When was I giving you a hard time?"  
  
Mark smiled as he watched her run her fingers through her thick tresses in an attempt to comb them out. "So. . ." he began. "Are you going to tell me what upset you earlier?"  
  
Elizabeth sighed, turning from him. She remained quiet as she pulled off her robe, before dressing in a tank top and a pair of pajama pants, prompting Mark to implore, "Elizabeth?"  
  
Finally turning back toward him, she said, "It looks like you're having a little trouble with him tonight. Want me to see what I can do?"  
  
"No," he replied with a sigh and a somber look. "I've got him."  
  
They remained silent for the remainder of the time it took for Elizabeth to get ready for bed. Once she finished, Matthew had finally fallen asleep. Watching as Mark placed the baby into the playpen for bed, she bit her lower lip, knowing that the time really had come for her to talk to him about this and realizing that when she did, he would most likely have something simple to say that would at least make her feel the slightest bit better.   
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she placed her hands on her knees, sighing as she stretched her back. "Mother has Alzheimer's, Mark," she finally explained.   
  
She watched him straighten and pause after he was sure that Matthew was down. Tuning to face her, he simply asked, "How bad?"  
  
"Stage 3," she remarked. "Early Confusional."  
  
"Elizabeth, I'm sorry," he replied, unsure of what else could be said. Crossing the room, he knelt in front of her and placed his hands over hers. "How did you find out?"  
  
Elizabeth blew out a deep breath before saying, "I could tell something was off as soon as I walked through the door of her house. You know as well as I do that my mother, even as soon as she gets out of bed, always looks like she just stepped out of a magazine," she paused, seeing the quick nod of his head. "Not this time, though. Her clothes were wrinkled. Her hair was a mess. . ." Elizabeth trailed off, shaking her head. Squeezing her hands, he gently encouraged her to continue. "She forgot we were having lunch today, and then she told her Book Club friends that Matthew's name was Mark."  
  
"That could have just been a slip, Elizabeth. . ."  
  
"No," she hastily replied. "I corrected her, but she didn't realize that what she said wrong. It was so strange to see her like that, Mark."  
  
Standing from his kneeling position, Mark sat beside her on the bed. Reaching up with his hand, he wiped away a tear that was making its way down her face. "Do her friends know? Did your father already know?" Mark asked curiously.  
  
A rueful laugh managed to escape her through the tears. "That's the worst part. Daddy and her friend, Lillian, have noticed things for the past couple years, actually. I guess daddy has suspected for a while now and a few weeks ago, his suspicions were confirmed. Mother got lost while shopping with Lillian, she hailed a cab, and ended up here."  
  
"Here?" Mark asked surprised.  
  
"Yeah," Elizabeth confirmed. "This was the only place she could remember how to get to. Then, daddy took her to the doctor," she paused, trying to hold back her emotions. "It just. . .it just hurts so bad that he knew. . .for weeks. . .but he didn't tell me, Mark," she replied, finally giving into her tears.   
  
Leaning closer to her, Mark reached for her, holding her tightly as she returned his embrace, clinging to him. He wanted to say something. He needed to say something, but what that was, he didn't know. Deciding that it might be best for him simply to be there for her, he stroked her back, rocking her gently as she cried into his shoulder. "Maybe he. . .didn't want you to worry, Elizabeth," Mark finally rationalized moments later when he felt the shaking of her body subside.  
  
"I really wish people would stop saying that," she stated flatly as she lifted her head from his shoulder. "How can I not worry, Mark?"  
  
He regarded her sympathetically before saying, "Elizabeth, your father wants what's best for you. Trust me, I know this because I'm the same way. He. . .I would do anything to keep you from hurting. From being upset. And while I'm sure that we both may be misled at times. . .it's only because we love you."   
  
Smiling slightly at the honesty of his response, she reached to touch the side of his face with one of her hands. After watching him for a moment, she then dropped her hand to her lap and looked downward. "I just want to be able to help, Mark. That's all," she replied dejectedly.  
  
"I know. I know," Mark assured her, once again taking her into his arms. "And, we'll think of something. But for now, I think you need to relax and focus on yourself. Otherwise, you won't be of any use to anyone, especially your mother." Pulling out of her embrace in order to study her face, he said, "And I think I may have something that may help you do that."  
  
"Oh really? What's that?" She asked, unable to hide the small smile that formed on her lips.  
  
"I can't tell you. It's a surprise," he joked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Mark, after today, I'm not sure I'm in the mood for any more surprises," she stated.  
  
"Ok, ok. I'll give you that," Mark admitted. "I was planning for this to be a surprise, but. . .I guess I could make a small exception. How does this sound?" He asked. "Tomorrow. Just you and me. . . a few peaceful and relaxing hours in a wooden skiff, floating down the Thames. Then. . ." he added conspiratorially, ". . .a blanket. . .a picnic basket. . . and a very secluded little area along the river that Rachel and I found earlier today."  
  
"That sounds lovely, but what about. . ." she began.  
  
Interrupting what he knew she was about to ask, Mark replied, "Rachel and your father have already offered to take Ella and Matthew for the day. I have everything planned and ready, so you don't need to worry about a thing."  
  
Elizabeth watched him as she smiled and shook her head. "I love you, Mark Greene," she replied a moment later.  
  
"And I love you," Mark replied as he took her hands in his, pulling her to stand at the side of the bed where he captured her in a tight embrace. Turning to pull down the comforter of the bed, he asked, "Are you ready for bed now?" He paused watching her sympathetically, "Or did you want to talk a little more?"  
  
"I'm exhausted, Mark," she admitted. "But I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep tonight," she sighed as she shook her head.  
  
"Come on," Mark replied as he crawled onto the bed, motioning for her to join him. "We'll see what I can do to help with that."  
  
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"Matthew would love this, Mark," Elizabeth sighed, relaxing against the seat of the skiff as Mark rowed down the Thames.   
  
"Nah," Mark said with a smile. "I think he's more into the big boats."  
  
Elizabeth chuckled, thinking of their son. "This is wonderful. We should buy a boat when we get back to Chicago."  
  
"We don't have time to spend on a boat, Elizabeth," Mark replied, curious about his wife's request.  
  
"We could always make time," Elizabeth remarked. "It would be lovely to go sailing on Lake Michigan," she paused, watching for his reaction. "And don't tell me you don't enjoy yourself when we go to the pier."  
  
"I don't know," Mark shrugged.  
  
She regarded him knowingly, before saying, "And if we had a boat, Rachel could swim in the lake. It might help her back, and. . ."  
  
"What is it with you and boats today?" Mark laughed.  
  
"Me and boats?" Elizabeth retorted playfully. "You're the one who insisted we decorate Matthew's nursery with sailboats. And who spent hours before he was born making a mobile with boats and fish on it, when I would have been perfectly content buying one?"  
  
"Hey!" Mark teased. "I'm proud of that mobile."  
  
Grinning, she commented, "And you should be. He loves watching those boats."  
  
Mark smiled sadly and remained silent for several moments. Quietly, he finally said, "I know. He reminds me of my father in that respect."  
  
Elizabeth watched Mark as he turned his head from her, staring out onto the water as he continued to row their boat. Pondering how to respond, she quietly asked, "Do you think about him often?"  
  
"My father?" Mark asked, turning back to her.   
  
Nodding, Elizabeth leaned forward placing her elbows on her knees, waiting for him to respond.  
  
Shrugging, Mark replied, "Sometimes." He paused, but the tender look in her eyes somehow compelled him to continue. Pausing his exertions at the oars of the boat, he admitted, "Mostly, at night, I guess, if I have to get up with Matthew. I'll sit there rocking him, just wondering where my dad and I went wrong, and hoping I don't mess up the same way with Matthew, or Ella."  
  
"You won't, Mark," Elizabeth stated plainly.  
  
Sighing ruefully, he stated, "I did it with Rachel, and I didn't start off very will with Ella, either. What's to stop me from screwing up with Matthew?"  
  
"It's a completely different situation, Mark," Elizabeth insisted. "You and Jen were both young when Rachel was a baby. Not to mention the fact that you were a med student; keeping up in your classes and enduring crazy rotations. . ." she shook her head. "Besides, you and Rachel are getting along great now, and Ella. . .Ella doesn't even remember all that happened when. . ."  
  
"I guess," Mark interrupted, unconvinced. "My father and I didn't really start getting along until it was too late, and when the time came for me to let go, I wasn't ready. I regret that so much," he sighed, shaking his head. "I don't want to have any regrets with our children, Elizabeth."   
  
"Our children are fine, Mark. They're happy, healthy, and they adore their daddy," Elizabeth stated, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
Mark managed a small smile. "For the past couple days, I've been watching your father with them. They're so content. And I guess I get a little. . .envious. . .that my parents were never given the chance to meet them and see how wonderful their grandchildren are."  
  
"Your parents loved you, and I'm sure they would have loved your children. You shouldn't have any regrets about that, or with your father, Mark. You took care of him in the end and spent some wonderful times together that last year," Elizabeth replied, wondering just how much time she would have left to spend with her own parents.   
  
Taking the oars of the skiff back into his hands, Mark looked out onto the Thames. "You know, my father loved the water," he said with a slight smile, hoping to change the subject.  
  
"I know," she replied, with a grin.  
  
They relaxed in companionable silence for a while as Mark rowed the boat closer to his destination for their picnic on the riverbank. "Penny for your thoughts," he finally asked, noticing her facial expression changing from one of relaxation to one of contemplation and worry.  
  
"I doubt they're worth that much," she sighed.  
  
"Well, I'll take them for free, then," he teased.  
  
She was silent a moment longer before asking, "Do you think I've been a bad daughter, Mark?"  
  
"What?" He asked, confused by her question.   
  
"Because I moved to the States. Because I don't visit here much. I just left my parents without any regard for what they thought," she stated.  
  
Mark watched his wife carefully. "I know it may be selfish of me," he admitted, "But I'd say that I am extremely lucky you left England." He then paused before asking, "Are you starting to regret your decision?"  
  
"Of course not, Mark!" She stated without hesitation. "Not for a minute."  
  
"Good," he smiled. Noticing her still somber expression, he said, "Elizabeth, you're not a bad daughter. Your parents know that. . ."  
  
"I live thousands of miles away, Mark," she interrupted evenly. "It was acceptable before. Mother and Daddy were younger. . .healthier. Now, though," she shook her head. "Mother has a degenerative disease; there's no cure. Who's going to take care of her? She and daddy have been divorced for years. He took her to the hospital initially, but I don't expect him to take care of her forever."  
  
"Well, you certainly can't take care of her yourself, Elizabeth," Mark replied. Watching her turn her head, obviously bothered by his remark, he sighed, once again relinquishing his hold on the wooden oars of the skiff. "What if we talk to your father and Lillian about looking into an assisted living community. Maybe that would help," he suggested. "It would decrease the amount of time your mother's friends have to spend with her while still giving her the privacy of her own home."  
  
Turning back toward him, she still didn't respond.   
  
Leaning toward her with his elbows resting on his knees, he said, "Before you make any decisions, you need to get all the information. Talk to your father and Lillian. Talk to your mother's doctors."  
  
"I just wish I was closer. So I could help make these decisions," she finally stated, once again looking away from him.  
  
"Elizabeth?" He questioned worriedly. "You aren't suggesting that you want to stay here, are you?"  
  
In reality, she wasn't sure what she was suggesting. She was so perplexed by the entire situation that she wasn't even sure of what she was thinking. "I know I can't do that," she finally commented, not convincing herself or Mark.   
  
"Elizabeth?" He questioned again.  
  
She finally looked at him, and watched his worried expression momentarily before answering, "Mark, I'm not saying I want to stay here. Honestly. My life isn't here anymore. You and our children are my life, and all of that isn't here. It's in Chicago. I just feel so awful about all of this."  
  
Reaching across the boat to where she sat facing him, he took her hands. "Elizabeth, I realize that this is a really bad situation, but you'll get through it. We'll do whatever we can."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mark," she sighed.   
  
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Elizabeth. You're worried about this, and that's why I'm here. I'm here to listen and help. You know that."  
  
"I know," she commented. "But, I've ruined our entire day with this. We. . .we can go back to the house if you'd like."  
  
"Are you kidding?" He commented with a grin. "Our day has just begun."  
  
"But, Mark. . ."  
  
"No buts. I promised you a day of relaxation. And while, I obviously haven't done such a great job up to this point, I'm determined to make this day better for you. And. . ." he said, looking behind him, ". . .here we are."  
  
"Where?" She asked, looking around the boat.  
  
"Our picnic spot," he stated simply. Stepping out of the boat and onto the bank, he tied the boat to the dock before reaching for her hand. "Come on."  
  
Eyeing him with a grin, she took his hand, allowing him to pull her up and out of the boat. He continued to hold her hand in his as he led her down the wooded path toward his destination. "Where are we going?" She asked, pulling her hand from his in order to wrap her arm around his waist as they walked.  
  
"Just relax and enjoy, Elizabeth. We'll be there shortly," he replied, placing his arm around her shoulders.  
  
They walked along the path a while longer, just enjoying being together as the sun of the warm June afternoon beat down upon them. "It's a lovely day today," Elizabeth commented.  
  
"Mmm hmm," Mark nodded.   
  
Following his lead as he guided her over a small hill and into a wooded area away from the path, she smiled when she saw their destination. On the ground, she saw a large blanket spread out over a flat area on the grass; a picnic basket sitting in the middle of it, with two places set on either side. "How did you manage all of this?" She asked, the surprise evident in her voice.  
  
"I have my ways," he grinned. Before he let her take a seat, he pulled her close to him and kissed her briefly. "Promise me something?"  
  
"Of course," she replied looking up into his eyes.  
  
"Promise me that for the rest of today you'll at least try to keep your mind off your parents or work or anything else unpleasant and just relax and be content here. . .alone. . .with me."  
  
"I'll try my best," she chuckled. "But. . .you have to promise to do the same."  
  
"I promise."   
  
They both took a seat on the blanket before he pulled out the bottle of sparkling cider that sat chilling in an ice bucket, to open it.  
  
"What have we got?" Elizabeth asked, motioning toward the wooden picnic basket.  
  
"Go ahead and look inside. I chose a variety, and it's up to you," he said as he poured her glass of cider.  
  
Elizabeth moved to open the basket. Peering inside, she saw several containers of food for her to choose from, but a small velvet box nestled in the middle of everything else caught her eye. She bit her bottom lip, the memory and surprise of finding her engagement ring in the refrigerator of their new home flooding her mind. "What's this?" She finally asked, pulling it out to show him.  
  
"Open it," Mark replied before taking a sip from his glass.  
  
She regarded him curiously before lifting the lid of the small box and gazing inside. Placing the fingers of her right hand against her lips, she breathed, "Oh, Mark. . ."   
  
Reaching into the box, he took the ring and held it up in front of her. "Elizabeth, I know that you're in surgery all the time, and it may be impractical for you to wear much jewelry. I'm probably lucky that you wear your wedding and engagement rings, but. . ."  
  
"Mark, I. . ."  
  
"But Rachel and I found this in a little antique shop yesterday, and for some reason, I just thought it was. . .you."   
  
"It's beautiful, Mark," Elizabeth replied honestly.  
  
He watched her reaction momentarily before continuing. "The shop owner told us that tradition has it that there is a vein running directly from the fourth finger to the heart and words touching this vein have a special power," he replied, taking her hands in his and gently brushing his thumb against the wedding and engagement rings on her left ring finger and the smooth skin of her right. "Inside this ring," he continued, once again holding it up, "is the French saying, 'de m'amour soiez sure'. . .of my. . ."   
  
". . .love be sure. . ." she finished for him.  
  
He looked at her, slightly surprised. "Very good," he commented. "I didn't know you spoke French."  
  
"Very, very badly," she replied with a chuckle. "But, enough."  
  
"I'm impressed," Mark admitted looking into her beautiful eyes. "Anyway, the original ring is in the collection of the British Museum here in London, and although the inscription is in period French, the ring is actually English. Something about French remaining the language of the nobility after the Norman Invasion. . .or something like that."  
  
"Now, I think it's my turn to be impressed, Mark," Elizabeth said, shaking her head slightly. "You. . .are amazing."  
  
"Well," he continued after a moment. "Like I said earlier, I don't know if you'll want to wear this, and that's ok. I'll understand. But supposedly, these rings connect people, especially people who are in love. . .with all those who have ever loved," he explained. "And one thing I know for sure is that I am connected to you, Elizabeth Corday. And I love you."  
  
"Oh, Mark," she began. "I. . .I don't know what to say."  
  
"Don't say anything," Mark stated. "Just kiss me," he replied playfully, leaning closer to her.   
  
She chuckled as his lips gently touched hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him closer, deepening their kiss. When they finally broke from each other, she smiled, saying, "There's just one thing."  
  
"What's that?" Mark asked.  
  
"Can I actually have the ring? Or were you planning to hold it in your hand forever?"  
  
"Oh," Mark replied, realizing that he hadn't actually given her the ring. "Sorry."  
  
She took her gift from him and slid it onto the fourth finger of her right hand. Holding her hand up to inspect it, she said, "I love it. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied, leaning closer to kiss her briefly on the cheek. "Ready to eat now?" He asked a moment later as he began pulling several containers from the picnic basket.  
  
"Yes," she nodded with a smile. "I'm starving."  
  
After lunch, they sat relaxing on the blanket; Mark's back against a tree, legs outstretched, with Elizabeth sitting between them, her back leaning against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, Mark sighed, "Am I doing any better?"  
  
"Hmm?" She questioned, turning slightly toward him. "At what?"  
  
"Helping you relax," he stated, pulling her hair off her neck and softly pressing his lips to the soft skin he found there. As he continued to nip at her neck, she shivered and chuckled slightly as his lips tickled her skin.  
  
"I'd say you're performance has started to improve a bit," she joked, closing her eyes and resting her head back against his shoulder.   
  
Mark continued to press his kisses against her skin, alternating between her neck and jaw line. Stopping momentarily, he whispered, "Sit up. Let' see what I can do with your back."  
  
Complying with his instructions, Elizabeth leaned forward, resting her palms on his knees as his legs surrounded her own. Mark gently moved her hair to one side, pushing it over the front of her shoulder. Pulling the unbuttoned cotton blouse she wore over her arms, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss at the strap of the tank top she still covering her body. Taking her shoulders into his hands, he kneaded the muscles passably. As he continued to work at her shoulders, she shook her arms free from the confines of the shirt that held her captive. After laying it on the blanket beside them, her hands returned to rest on his legs.   
  
"You're actually not as tense as I expected," Mark commented a moment later.  
  
"You must be doing a good job, then," Elizabeth smiled.   
  
His hands then left her shoulders to work at the muscles running the length of her spine. "Oh!" She called softly.  
  
"Sensitive?" He asked, gently pressing his palms into the muscles.  
  
"A little," she replied. "But, please don't stop."  
  
"Of course not," he answered. Reaching the small of her back, he slid his palms up under the hem of her tank top where his hands spanned her sides while his thumbs pressed firmly into the tight knots at the center of her back. His warm lips them pressed softly against the side of her throat, just below her jaw line; a particular spot that he knew drove her wild. His hands halted their work at her back, spreading against her stomach and then skimming upward to cradle the weight of her breasts through her clothing.   
  
"Mark!" She protested unconvincingly. "What are you doing?"  
  
"What does it feel like I'm doing, Elizabeth?" He grinned as he explored her curves lazily, his thumbs stroking her nipples, lightly at first, but then more firmly as he felt them harden beneath his caress.   
  
A quiet moan was all that broke Elizabeth's throat in response to his question as she once again let her head fall back against his shoulder. Mark chuckled softly at her reaction, a sound that, despite the warmth of the summer air, sent a familiar shiver straight through her. Completely caught up in the caresses of his hands, she replied, "It feels. . .it feels like you. . .are. . ."  
  
"Just relax, I happen to know exactly what I'm doing," he smiled as he raised one hand to cradle her cheek. As the pad of his thumb stroked a line across the contours of her mouth, she parted her lips slightly under his touch, just enough to pull the tip of his thumb into the warm recess beyond. Turning her head to hold his gaze as she gently mouthed the tip of his thumb, she watched his chocolate eyes contract sharply. "Ok, so, maybe you know what you're doing here, as well," Mark replied, feeling his body respond as he watched the darkening of desire in her eyes as she sucked on the tip of his thumb.  
  
Smiling, Elizabeth paused allowing him to withdraw his thumb and find her lips with his own gentle kiss. "Maybe?" Elizabeth feigned annoyance when he lifted his head again. She slipped her arms around his neck and moved to sit atop his lap as she tilted her head to view him with a frown. "I think I deserve more credit than that." He stroked a hand through her hair, tucking an errant tendril behind her ear as he listened to her indignantly add, "Are you insinuating that I usually don't know what I'm doing in. . .these kinds of situations?"   
  
Mark grinned. "Now, I didn't say that," he informed her soberly, before lowering his head again to take advantage of her position, trailing his lips across the length of her throat.   
  
"You'd better not," Elizabeth smiled, closing her eyes as her head fell even further to one side, granting him more access.   
  
He smiled against the skin of her shoulder as his lips wandered from her neck. "So. . .why don't we. . ." He nibbled his way along the length of her collarbone, sucking gently at her skin, causing Elizabeth to whimper softly as he continued, ". . .take advantage of this nice little spot here. . ." His lips trailed a swift path up across her throat, jaw, and cheek. ". . .to remind me. . ." He captured her lower lip, tugging gently. ". . .just how you are. . ." His tongue followed her mouth, questing its way along its curves before forcing entry into its slick, inner warmth. ". . .in these. . .situations." He finished finally on a low breath, giving in as her lips eagerly attached to his, allowing his tongue to plunge into her mouth, where it met her own in a satisfying tangle.   
  
Elizabeth laughed into his mouth, her grip tightening around his neck to drag him even closer. Several moments later, after they had languidly explored each other through their kiss, she pulled away slightly. Smiling, she dropped her gaze to the buttons of his shirt. "I didn't think it was possible for you to know me any better, Dr. Greene."   
  
Mark shrugged, letting his hands trail a path down from her shoulders to the small of her back, where he netted his fingers lightly at the base of her spine. "Well, you know what they say. There's always room for improvement."  
  
"But seriously, Mark. Here? It's right out in the open, anyone could. . .well, I mean. . ." she gestured a hand haphazardly over her shoulder. "We're just off the path of the river. . .and anyone could walk by. . ."  
  
"You weren't really worried about that in the bathroom of the plane the other morning," he reminded her smugly.   
  
Elizabeth blushed slightly. "That was. . .different. You'd been teasing me with your hand on my thigh," she explained. "There was no way I was going to make it five more hours stuck on that plane." She paused and blushed a little deeper. "Besides that was. . .nostalgic."   
  
He tried not to laugh as he questioned, "Nostalgic? For what?"  
  
Smiling, she answered, "For when we first started dating, before we had to worry about Matthew or Ella or Rachel catching us."  
  
"You mean nostalgic like the time you gave me poison ivy?" He laughed.  
  
"Something like that," she chuckled. "But speaking of that, I'm surprised you're so interested in this outside idea?"  
  
"Weren't you the one who told me you didn't have poison ivy in England?" he countered. "Leaves of three or any other kind?"  
  
"Yes, but. . ." She trailed off.  
  
"But, what?" He insisted as he ran his hand under her skirt, caressing the soft skin from her knee to her hip. Before she could respond, his free hand cupped the back of her head, fixing her against his lips as they compressed her own with a gentle yet intense caress.   
  
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Once his body stopped shaking, he blew out a long breath, trying desperately to return his breathing to normal. "God, Elizabeth," he remarked. "What you do to me."  
  
She chuckled against the skin of his neck before taking his earlobe into her mouth and nibbling at it gently. "What we do to each other, is more like it, Mark," she teased.   
  
Finally pulling herself off his body, she hurried to put her skirt back on while he pulled his pants back up and fasted the button and zipper. Lazily resting her head on his chest as his arm held her securely to his body, she ran her hand under his t-shirt to caress his stomach.   
  
After a long while, she sighed, "I'm not going to want to leave here on Friday, Mark."   
  
"Because of your mother?" He questioned hesitantly, leaning up on his elbow to look down at her.  
  
"No," she insisted, her grin fading slightly.   
  
Pushing the thoughts of her mother to the back of her mind, she leaned up slightly, looking him directly in the eye. Smiling once again, she said, "Because I've become extremely spoiled here. We haven't made love this many days in a row since. . ." She then paused, seriously pondering that thought.  
  
". . .since 1999?" He finished.  
  
She regarded him sadly. "Yeah, probably," she remarked.   
  
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"Do I have to open the door?" Elizabeth joked as she and Mark stood at the doorstep of her father flat around 7:30 that evening. "I'm not ready to return to the real world quite yet."  
  
Mark laughed, watching her smile. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he asked, "So, you think we should just leave our children here, catch a flight back to Chicago, and let your father raise them?"  
  
"God, no," Elizabeth laughed, reaching for the doorknob. "That was enough to bring me back to reality," she smiled. Upon walking through the door, they noticed how quiet the entire house seemed to be. "Hmm. . .I wonder where they are," Elizabeth commented.  
  
"Maybe they went to dinner or something," Mark said as he closed the door behind them.   
  
Elizabeth turned to face him, a gleam in her eye. "Does that mean we have even more time to ourselves?" She asked before leaning closer to him and capturing his lips.  
  
They remained that way for several moments, before they were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Hesitantly breaking from each other, they both turned to see Rachel standing at the bottom of the stairs. "I take it you had a good time today," Rachel said, a smile on her face.  
  
Elizabeth blushed slightly, watching Mark smile before crossing the room toward her stepdaughter. "Yes, Rachel, we had a wonderful time. Thanks for helping your dad with the preparations."  
  
"No problem," Rachel smiled.   
  
"I'm going to go put this stuff in the kitchen," Mark commented, holding up the picnic basket that he held in his right hand. "I'll be right back."  
  
Elizabeth watched him walk away before turning back to Rachel. "And by the way," Elizabeth started. "You have excellent taste in jewelry," she finished, looking down at the new ring that graced her right hand.  
  
"Thanks," Rachel smiled, taking Elizabeth's hand in hers to inspect her gift. "Oh, your dad got called into the hospital about an hour ago. He wanted me to be sure to tell you."  
  
"Hey," Mark called when he returned to the sitting room. "Where are Ella and Matthew?" He asked as he sat down.  
  
Rachel left Elizabeth and crossed the room to have a seat on the sofa next to her father. "Matthew just fell asleep, and Ella is with Isabelle."  
  
Mark's head shot up in Elizabeth's direction upon hearing Rachel's response. "What?" Elizabeth asked, disbelieving, rushing to stand in front of Rachel. "She's with my mother? Why? Who came to get her? When?" Elizabeth asked rapidly.   
  
"Was Isabelle alone? Did she have someone with her?" Mark questioned, the alarm evident on his face as he stood from the couch.   
  
Rachel didn't know what to think. Her attention moved from Mark to Elizabeth, obviously unsure of what to say. "Umm. . .it was about a half hour ago. She was alone. Why? Did I do something wrong? Is that not ok?"  
  
"Oh, God," was all Elizabeth could even think to reply before rushing toward the door.  
  
"Damn," Mark said quietly, following quickly behind. "Rachel," he called behind him. "Stay here, ok? Look after Matthew. We'll be right back."  
  
"But, daddy. . ." Rachel began, standing from her seat and facing her father.   
  
"Please, Rach. Just do it."  
  
"But. . ."  
  
"I'll explain everything later," Mark insisted before closing the door behind him.  
  
When he got outside, he saw that Elizabeth had already made her way to the car and was opening the driver's side door to get in. "Elizabeth, wait!" He urged. Running down the front steps, he barely made it too the passenger's seat before she pulled the car out of the driveway.   
  
Mark watched Elizabeth out the corner of his eye as she aptly maneuvered the car through the dark streets from her father's house to, he assumed, her mother's flat. He knew she was lost in thought. Tortured thoughts of what could be happening to their daughter, and he really didn't know what to say. He was just as frightened as he was sure she was.  
  
"I'll never be able to forgive myself if something happens to her, Mark," she finally said, her vision becoming cloudy through the tears that threatened to fall. "God, she has to be all right," she sighed.  
  
"They've been gone fore less than 45 minutes, Elizabeth. We'll find them," Mark insisted. "We'll find them," he repeated quietly. "We have to."  
  
Elizabeth nodded sadly as she caught a glimpse of the look in his eye. "We should've told Rachel. She didn't know," she said dejectedly. "I can't believe daddy just left. . ."   
  
"He knows we trust Rachel to watch them, Elizabeth, and we can't do anything about that now," Mark interrupted. "I'm just glad Matthew was asleep, and. . ."  
  
"Matthew!" Elizabeth gasped. "I totally forgot. He'll need to be fed soon. There weren't that many bottles left in the fridge. Damn it!" She spat, hitting her hands on the steering wheel.   
  
"It's ok. Rachel's there with him. He'll be fine," Mark tried to assure her.   
  
"No, Mark, it's not ok. I totally forgot about our son. I can't believe this," she stated, shaking her head.  
  
"He's fine, Elizabeth," Mark insisted.   
  
When Elizabeth pulled into Isabelle's driveway, they both practically leaped from the car before she had even turned off the ignition.  
  
Mark was the first to reach the door and began knocking loudly as Elizabeth rang the doorbell. "Mother?" she shouted, now banging on the door as well. "Mother, answer the door."  
  
"Isabelle?" Mark called. "Ella, are you in there?"  
  
"Damn it, mother! Open the door!" Elizabeth spat, trying desperately to hold herself together.   
  
After several moments, Mark reluctantly halted his assault on the door. Grabbing Elizabeth's arm, before she sent her fist through the hard wood of the door, he said, "They're not here, Elizabeth."  
  
She turned toward him, the anxiety evident in her expression. She didn't speak, but instead jerked her arms from his grasp and headed back to the car. "Ok," she said, rubbing her temples as she paced back and forth beside the car. "Where would she take her? Where the hell would she take her?"  
  
"You have relatives here, right?" Mark suggested. "Would you're mother take Ella to see them?"  
  
"I doubt it. Mother doesn't really get along very well with them, and. . ."   
  
"What about a friend's house. It's Lillian, right?" Mark asked. "It's too late to go to the park, maybe they went to get dessert, or maybe they went site seeing," he continued, trying desperately to think of some place his daughter could be.  
  
Elizabeth stood listening to him, the wheels in her head obviously turning. Finally, her eyes lit up, realization dawning on her. "Get in! I know where they are."  
  
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"Did a princess live here, grandma?" Ella asked as she licked the strawberry ice cream cone she held in her hand.   
  
Isabelle sighed, looking toward the Tower of London from the bench she and Ella sat on near the small beach at St. Katherine's Docks. "Oh, yes, dear. You see, King Henry the VIII had two daughters, Princess Mary and Princess Elizabeth. . ."   
  
"Hey," Ella interrupted, giggling. "That's mommy's name. Are you talking about mommy?"  
  
Isabelle smiled down at Ella, "No, sweetheart. This was a long, long time ago. Before mommy was born. Before I was even born," Isabelle explained. Watching Ella continue to eat her ice cream, Isabelle decided to continue. "See, over there?" she asked, pointing toward the tower. "That is the Bell Tower."  
  
"I see it, grandma," Ella replied.  
  
"Well, Princess Mary wasn't very nice to Princess Elizabeth, and one day, Mary locked Elizabeth up in that tower," Isabelle explained.  
  
"Oh, no," Ella exclaimed. "How did she get out, grandma? Did she have to stay there forever?"  
  
"No, sweetheart. She finally got out, and later became the Queen of England," Isabelle finished.  
  
Ella took another bite from her ice cream cone before asking, "How come Mary was mean to Elizabeth, grandma?"  
  
Isabelle sighed, wondering how to explain the situation to Ella in a way she would understand. "Do you ever get mad at Matthew, Ella?" Isabelle asked.   
  
"Matthew's a baby. He doesn't make me mad," Ella rationalized.  
  
Isabelle thought momentarily before continuing. "What about Rachel. Have you ever been upset with Rachel?"  
  
Ella looked up at her grandmother before speaking. "There was one time when Rachel said I could play in her room, but then her friend Brianna came to our house, and she wouldn't let me in. Daddy said I would have to wait to play because Rachel was doing her homework."  
  
"And that made you mad, didn't it," Isabelle stated.  
  
"Yes, grandma," Ella replied, taking the last bite of her ice cream cone.  
  
"Well, I guess that's kind of like the princesses. Mary was angry with Elizabeth, so she locked her in the tower. It was over something silly, I'm sure. Just like you and Rachel," Isabelle explained.  
  
"Yeah," Ella replied, swinging her feet back and forth as they sat on the bench staring up at the Tower of London.  
  
Feeling something slap the side of her leg, Isabelle looked down to see Ella's shoelaces dangling to the ground. "Ella, sweetheart, you're shoe is untied."  
  
Ella looked down toward her foot and then back up at her grandmother. "Will you tie it for me, grandma," she asked. "I don't know how."  
  
"You don't know how?" Isabelle asked with a smile. "Would you like me to show you?" She asked.  
  
Ella smiled widely as she turned toward Isabelle and placed her feet up on the bench. "Please, grandma. Show me how!" Ella exclaimed.  
  
Isabelle watched Ella momentarily and couldn't help but chuckle at the tenacity that seemed to flow from the little girl's every movement. How much she reminded her of Elizabeth at that age. Taking Ella's shoelaces into her hands and following the motions, she spoke, "Two snakes escaped from the zoo. . .and live in holes in your shoe. In and out they twisted and fought, until their tails were twisted in a knot."  
  
Isabelle paused to watch Ella who was obviously concentrating on the movements of her grandmother's hands. "One snake put his neck in a loop, but his friend wrapped him round in a hoop. 'Pull me out, pull me out', cried the snake with a shout. . ." Isabelle continued as Ella laughed at her grandmother's impression of the snake's voice. "Through the hole pull me low, and what do you know? You've made a bow!" Isabelle spoke with a dramatic finish.  
  
"That looks hard, grandma," Ella spoke. "I don't know if I can do that."  
  
"Sure you can, sweetheart. You just have to try," Isabelle stated. "Here, I'll help you."  
  
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"Where are we going?" Mark asked, as Elizabeth drove from her mother's apartment.   
  
"The Tower of London," Elizabeth replied.   
  
"Why would your mother take Ella there?" Mark questioned.  
  
Elizabeth sighed before saying, "When I was little. . .when daddy would be working in the evenings at the hospital, mother would buy me an ice cream cone and take me to St. Katherine's docks where we would sit in the sand or on a park bench just watching the Tower Bridge rise to allow the ships to enter to pool of London. I was just absolutely fascinated by that thing."  
  
"How can you be sure that's where Ella is?" Mark asked.  
  
Elizabeth smiled, thinking of their daughter. Glancing at him briefly, before returning her eyes to the road, she replied, "Well, number one. . .our daughter loves ice cream. . ."  
  
Mark smiled. "I wonder who she gets that from," he interrupted. "You ate enough of it while you were pregnant to feed an. . ."  
  
"You better watch it, mister," Elizabeth chuckled, momentarily at ease. "Given the situation, I'm going to let you slide with that remark, but you may not be so lucky next time."  
  
Mark returned her smile, and then allowed her to finish. "But anyway," she started. "While sitting there, mother would tell me stories of the princesses who lived in the tower," she paused. "And of course, my favorite was Elizabeth."  
  
"Of course," Mark commented, knowingly. "And you think Isabelle could have taken Ella there because she likes princesses?" Mark asked.  
  
"Well, yeah," Elizabeth commented hopefully. "Yesterday, Ella asked mother if she would take her to see the castles where the princesses live."  
  
"It makes sense," Mark replied.  
  
"They just have to be there, Mark," Elizabeth finished with a sigh.  
  
"Wow, grandma," Ella exclaimed upon finished tying her shoe. "Can we go show mommy and daddy, now?"  
  
Isabelle glanced at her watch. Noting that it was after 9:00pm, she replied, "Sure, sweetheart. It's getting late. We should be. . ."  
  
"Ella!" Came Elizabeth's voice from a distance away.   
  
Both Isabelle and Ella looked up quickly to see Mark and Elizabeth rushing toward them. "Mommy!" Ella exclaimed, hopping down from the bench and running in her parents' direction.   
  
"Oh, sweetheart," Elizabeth cried, dropping to her knees to hug the little girl.   
  
"Elizabeth?" Isabelle questioned. "What are you doing here? I was just about to take Ella back to your father's house." Noticing Mark who stood behind Elizabeth, Isabelle said, "Hello, Mark. It's good to see you again."  
  
"You too, Isabelle," Mark replied.  
  
"Daddy!" Ella said excitedly as she pulled from Elizabeth's embrace. "Grandma taught me how to tie my shoes and we had ice cream and grandma told me about the princesses, and. . ."  
  
"She taught you to tie your shoes?" Elizabeth asked, obviously surprised as she looked from her mother back toward Ella.  
  
"Yes!" Ella continued. "Watch!" Reaching down, she untied the laces of one shoe and with inept little fingers, she repeated Isabelle's story about the snakes. Struggling with the laces at first, she ultimately succeeded, a huge smile plastered across her face.   
  
"That was wonderful, Ellie," Mark said as he picked her up and kissed her cheek.   
  
"Can we go show grandpa, now?" She asked excitedly.   
  
"Grandpa's probably still at work, sweetie," Elizabeth stated as she stood from where she still knelt in the sand. "You can show him in the morning, okay?"  
  
"Okay, mommy," Ella agreed, stifling a yawn.  
  
"Someone looks tired," Mark commented with a smile.   
  
"I'm not tired, daddy," Ella defied as she sleepily rested her head on her daddy's shoulder. "I want to go show Rachel."  
  
"All right," Mark relented, turning to walk back to the car. "If Rachel is still awake when we get back, you can show her." Noticing that Elizabeth was hesitant to leave with him, he turned around to see her standing awkwardly beside her mother. Realizing that she needed time to talk to Isabelle, he kissed her cheek, saying, "We'll meet you at the car."  
  
"Uhh. . .Mark," Elizabeth called. "I'll just go with mother. Would you mind following us to her house?"  
  
Mark paused before realizing that Elizabeth didn't think it would be safe for Isabelle to drive alone. "Sure," he finally said. "We'll see you there."  
  
Once Mark had walked away from them with Ella almost asleep in his arms, Isabelle huffed, "Elizabeth, really. You really don't need to ride with me."  
  
"You're right mother," Elizabeth retorted. "I don't need to ride with you. I'm driving."  
  
"Elizabeth! That isn't necessary. "I'm perfectly capable of. . ."  
  
"Please don't argue with me, mother. Just give me the keys," Elizabeth demanded.  
  
"Elizabeth!"  
  
"Mother, please!"  
  
Isabelle watched Elizabeth sadly before reaching into her pocket and hesitantly handing her daughter the keys.  
  
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"'Lizabeth?" Mark called sleepily into the spare bedroom where Rachel and Ella slept. There, he saw her sitting on the edge of Ella's bed, her back to him, just watching the child's sleeping form. When she didn't respond, he asked, "Elizabeth, you ok?"  
  
She still didn't respond, but he finally saw her move as she lifted her head, turning to peer out the window, but still not looking back at him. Watching as she hastily wiped her eyes, he called again, "Elizabeth?"  
  
"She loves her, Mark," he finally heard her whisper.   
  
"Who?" He asked softly.  
  
"Ella," she began. "Ella loves my mother."   
  
"Of course she does," Mark replied as he finally crossed the distance between them to kneel down in front of her.   
  
Elizabeth looked down at him and noted the worried expression on his face. Sniffing slightly, she said, "I don't know how to do this, Mark. How am I going to tell Ella that she can't do things with her grandmother any longer?" A tear traced it's way down her cheek before she added, "It's. . .it's going to break her little heart."  
  
Mark blew out a long breath as he reached up to wipe the tear from her cheek. Taking her hands in his, he said, "It's not like she can't ever see her. Just as long as we're there. . ."  
  
Elizabeth sighed. "I guess," she finally relented. "And I know it isn't like Ella gets to spend much time with her anyway. But, that's the point. She should at least be able to enjoy the time she does have with her. It's just that that isn't even an option anymore."  
  
"I know," Mark stated. "But I also know how much Isabelle adores Ella, and Matthew, too. She'd never do anything to hurt either of them."  
  
"But, she doesn't even realize that she could have hurt Ella tonight, Mark. I tried to talk to her about it in the car on the way back to her house, but she just didn't seem to understand. It's like she knows she's sick. She knows she has Alzheimer's, she told me that herself. But I couldn't get through to her just what that means. For her, or for the rest of us," Elizabeth replied, obviously troubled by what was happening to her family. "And I know we'll only be here for four more days. Then it will just go back to the regular phone calls, but. . ."  
  
"But what happens when those phone calls stop?" Mark asked, finishing Elizabeth's question for her.  
  
"Yeah," she sighed. "What happens when mother doesn't remember to call. What happens when she. . .when she doesn't even remember her own grandchildren?"  
  
"We'll just have to deal with that when it happens, Elizabeth. Right now, though, your mother doesn't seem that altered. I mean, she taught Ella how to tie her shoes in a matter of two hours."  
  
Elizabeth smiled ruefully, picturing Ella's face when she had shown them her new talent. "I was just so - scared, Mark. It's an awful feeling to be afraid that your own mother could possibly endanger your child."  
  
"Ella was okay, Elizabeth," Mark reiterated. "Nothing happened."  
  
"This time, Mark," Elizabeth argued. "What about the next. If there even is a next," she finished quietly. Standing from where she sat, Elizabeth secured the covers around Ella's body before kissing her lightly on the forehead.  
  
Mark stood with her and watched as she stared down at Ella. "She's okay, Elizabeth. She's here. She's safe. And we're not going to let anything happen to her. Do you hear me?" He asked, grasping her hands tightly.  
  
"Yes," she relented. "I just can't stop thinking about what could have. . ."  
  
"I know. I know," he said as he pulled her into his embrace. "I'm really sorry about this, Elizabeth," he said a moment later as he felt her pull from his embrace. "I never imagined coming back to England would be so. . .awful for you."  
  
"It's not your fault," she said as she hesitantly started toward the door of the bedroom.   
  
"I wanted to bring you here so you could relax. So you could spend some time with your parents. I didn't want it to be even more stressful for you than work and everything else back in Chicago," Mark replied as he met her at the door.  
  
"Trust me, Mark. You are doing an excellent job. It's just that unfortunately, everything else seems to be overshadowing your efforts. But. . . that doesn't mean I don't appreciate what you've done," she spoke softly as they walked back toward their own bedroom.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," Mark chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Come on," he said as he led her through the bedroom door. "It's been a long day. Let's get some sleep."  
  
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"Grandma! The shark's gonna eat me," Ella exclaimed, hiding her face as she walked by the large fish tank in the London Aquarium.   
  
"He can't eat, you, sweetheart," Isabelle chuckled. Reaching up to knock on the glass of the tank she said, "Look, he's behind the glass."  
  
When Ella still didn't look, Isabelle said, "Come here, darling. I'll show you."  
  
"No grandma, he'll eat me," Ella repeated with wide eyes as she backed even further away from the glass. "I'm scared."  
  
"There's no reason to be scared, Ella," Isabelle began. Reaching out her hand toward the frightened little girl, she continued, "Take my hand. I'll make sure the shark doesn't hurt you."  
  
Ella hesitantly took Isabelle's hand and allowed her to drag her up to the glass. Placing Ella's trembling palm up to the fish tank, Isabelle said, "See, the shark is behind the glass. There's no way he could even come close to you."  
  
Ella's body relaxed slightly, but she still wasn't convinced. "Do you promise he won't eat me?" She asked.  
  
"I promise," Isabelle laughed.  
  
"She seems fine today, Mark," Elizabeth commented as she walked beside her husband who was pushing Matthew in the stroller, not far behind Isabelle and Ella.  
  
"I know," Mark sighed. "She seemed fine last night, too."  
  
"I hate this," Elizabeth remarked a moment later.  
  
"Elizabeth, please. Let's just enjoy this time we have," Mark said as he lifted a fussing Matthew from the stroller.   
  
"I'm trying. I really am," she admitted, taking control of the stroller as Mark carried the baby.  
  
"Look," he said as he stopped to face her. "In a few very short days you and I are going to have to go back to work. Back to our every day lives," he said, rocking Matthew in his arms in an attempt to calm him. "So, I think we just need to spend the rest of our time here wisely."  
  
"What do you mean," she asked with a suspicious grin. Reaching out to caress Matthew's back, she cooed, "It's ok, sweetheart."  
  
"For the rest of this week, we have the opportunity to spend every waking moment with our children. Let's just enjoy it," Mark explained, glancing forward to assure that Ella was still in his sight.  
  
Elizabeth watched him knowingly and finally grinned. "As much as I hate to admit this, I know you're right," she said.   
  
"Of course I am," he teased.  
  
"How'd I know that was coming?" she asked a moment later. Mark only smiled as he pulled her closer to kiss her temple.   
  
"He's probably hungry," Elizabeth commented, motioning for Mark to had Matthew to her. "Let's get mother and Ella and see if they're ready for dinner as well."   
  
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Friday morning, Mark awoke to find Elizabeth sleeping peacefully beside him, her face partially covered by her hair. Smiling, he gently moved the curls out of her face as he leaned forward to kiss her lips softly. "Mmm, Mark," she mumbled a moment later without opening her eyes.  
  
  
  
"Time to get up," he said cheerfully, kissing her forehead.  
  
  
  
"No. . .not yet," she argued sleepily as she rolled onto her back in an attempt to ward him off.  
  
Mark laughed, but only followed, leaning up on his elbow to look down at her, his other arm resting on the mattress at the other side of her body. "Come on. We promised Ella we'd take her to the zoo to see the monkeys again before we have to leave."  
  
"Oh, you're right," she groaned in frustration before finally opening her eyes. "Do you think we could convince her to change her mind and just stay in bed all day?" she asked, smiling up at him.  
  
"Now why would you want to do something like that?" He asked with a smirk curling at his lips.  
  
  
  
"Hmmm. Let me think," she grinned as she reached up with her hand to guide his head toward her.   
  
He reciprocated, resting his body on hers as he deepened their kiss. His hand traveled down her side to her hip and then back up as she tightened her arms around his neck. "Mmm," she sighed into his mouth.  
  
Slipping his hand under her shirt, Mark lazily drew patterns on her smooth skin as she ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.   
  
Reaching to his waist, Elizabeth took the bottom his t-shirt into her hands and began to pull it upward, but halted suddenly when she heard a child's voice call, "Mommy?"   
  
They both arrested their ministrations, but neither moved from their position before hearing a slight nock on the door, and then Ella's voice calling, "Daddy?"  
  
Elizabeth sighed as she opened her eyes, Mark's lips still fastened to hers. Removing her arms from his waist, she let them fall gracelessly to the bed as he pulled himself away from her. "Well, at least she knocked," Mark chuckled slightly regarding his wife's ominous expression. "Come in, sweetheart," he finally called   
  
The door opened to reveal a very awake Ella dressed in her pajamas; a pink polka dot camisole and capri bottoms. As she walked closer to the bed, Mark sat up to greet her. "What's up, Ellie?"  
  
"Can we go to the zoo now, Daddy?" She asked excitedly.  
  
Mark leaned over the side of the bed to pick up the little girl and settled her onto his lap. "Not right now, sweetie, but in a little while."  
  
"I want to go now, daddy," she started to whine. "I want to see the monkeys."  
  
Giving her an unyielding look, he said, "Ella, we'll go in a little while, ok?"  
  
Ella started to object, but noting the stern look in his eyes, she conceded, saying, "Ok, daddy."  
  
Glancing down at Elizabeth who was smiling with her eyes closed as she listened to their conversation, Mark whispered into Ella's ear, "Mommy's only pretending like she's asleep. Let's tickle her."  
  
Carefully crawling from Mark's lap and onto the bed between her parents, Ella pensively looked at Elizabeth's face before slowly reaching her hand toward her mother's stomach. Before Ella could even touch her, though, Elizabeth came to life, grabbing the little girl and tickling her belly.  
  
"Mommy!" Ella exclaimed through her fits of giggles. "You. . .you scared me!"  
  
Halting her assault at Ella's belly, Elizabeth rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms tightly around the little girl. With Ella's back against her stomach, Elizabeth kissed her head and then looked up at Mark. "I've captured this little monkey, Mark. What do you think we should do with her now?"   
  
  
  
"Hmm?" Mark questioned as he slid back down onto the bed to face his wife and daughter. "I think we should. . ."  
  
His statement was soon cut off by Matthew crying from the playpen at the foot of the bed, ". . .get Matthew to join us," Mark finished as he kissed Ella's forehead and then stood to get the baby.  
  
After calming him a bit, Mark laid him on the bed next to Ella, before crossing the room to gather a camera that sat on the dresser. "Smile," he said happily as he looked through the lens.  
  
  
  
"Mark!" Elizabeth protested.   
  
"Come on. . smile," he demanded with a laugh.  
  
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"Do we have to leave, daddy?" Ella asked as Mark led her toward the car.   
  
"Yeah, sweetie, I'm afraid we do," Mark said as he placed a suitcase into the trunk.   
  
"But can't we stay just one more day?" Ella begged. "I want to stay here with grandma and grandpa."  
  
"I'm sorry, Ella. We have to go home," Mark said as he headed back toward the house to where Elizabeth had just placed another suitcase at the door. "Is that the last of it?" Mark asked.  
  
"I think so. Rachel might have another bag, though," Elizabeth answered. Looking over to where Ella stood by the car, she said, "She doesn't want to leave yet, does she?"  
  
"No. She wants to stay here," Mark chuckled.   
  
Elizabeth sighed. "Maybe we should have chosen to take the later flight so she would have been asleep when it was time to leave."  
  
"So, you're not above misleading our children?" Mark asked with a smile. "Going to sleep in London and waking up in Chicago?  
  
"Well, if it means that she won't scream and yell as we are about to board the plane, then. . .yes," Elizabeth commented.  
  
"Here's my last bag," Rachel said as she walked out the door.  
  
"Thanks, Rach," Mark said as he headed back toward the car. After placing the bag into the car, he watched as Charles and Isabelle walked out of the house; Matthew in Isabelle's arms. "Come on, Ella. Let's go say goodbye to grandma and grandpa."  
  
Mark reached for her hand, but she wouldn't take it. "No, daddy. I want to stay here," Ella defied him. "I'm NOT going."  
  
Turning to face her, he was a little surprised by her behavior. Crouching down in front of her, he warned, "Ella. . .it's time to go say goodbye. Let's go."  
  
"No, daddy. I'm not ready to leave yet," Ella pouted as tears started to well up in her eyes.  
  
Picking her up, he sat her on the trunk of the car. "Ella, we've been here for seven days. It's time to go home."  
  
"Just one more day, daddy," she begged. "Please."  
  
Mark sighed. He knew she was upset about having to leave her grandparents. "Listen, Elle. You got to do everything you wanted this week. We went to the aquarium, and the zoo, and to see the castles. I know you want to stay here with grandma and grandpa, but you know what?"  
  
"What?" Ella pouted, crossing her arms across her chest with a huff.  
  
"If you stay here, you won't be able to start preschool with your friends. You won't get to go to the park and play with the kids there. You won't get to eat pumpkin pie with lots of whip cream on it because they don't have Thanksgiving here. . ." Mark tried to rationalize with her.  
  
"No Thanksgiving?" Ella asked.  
  
"Nope," Mark replied. "And if you stay, you won't get to see Matthew or Rachel, and mommy and I would miss you so much."  
  
"I'd miss you, too, daddy," Ella finally admitted. "But I'll miss grandma and grandpa, too."  
  
  
  
"I know, sweetie," Mark said before offering, "How about this. From now on, we'll call grandma and grandpa once a week from home. That way, you can talk to them and tell them all about what's happening."  
  
"I can really call every week?" Ella asked happily.  
  
"Yeah," Mark relented. "I promise."  
  
Ella thought about this momentarily before looking up at him. ". . . .and I can tell them about my friends and school and everything?"  
  
"You can talk to them about anything you want." Mark said. "Now, come on. Let's go say goodbye."  
  
Lifting her from the car, he held her hand as he led her up the walk toward the door. "Bye grandpa," Ella said sweetly when they reached them.   
  
"Charles bent down toward her and lifted her into his arms. "Goodbye, sweetheart," he said. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too, grandpa," Ella said as she hugged him.   
  
After Charles sat her down, Isabelle leaned down toward her and kissed her cheek. "I'll miss you, grandma," Ella said sadly. "Thank you for teaching me to tie my shoes."  
  
"You're welcome, darling," Isabelle replied, as she reached out to wipe away a tear from Ella's cheek. "No crying, my love. Just remember. Even though we live far apart, I'll always be right here," Isabelle stated as she gently pressed her fingertips to Ella's heart.   
  
"I remember, grandma," Ella said as she hugged her grandmother again.  
  
Mark looked toward Elizabeth who was now holding Matthew. It broke his heart to see the sadness in her eyes and the way her lips and chin trembled as she was trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. "Come on, Ella," he said cautiously. "Let's get you buckled into the car."   
  
"Ok, daddy," Ella said. "Come on Rachel," she said, reaching for her sister's hand.  
  
"Goodbye Rachel," Charles called. "It was nice spending time with you."  
  
"Goodbye," Rachel said as Ella dragged her toward the car. "Thanks for having me."  
  
After Isabelle followed them toward the car to help them get settled in, Elizabeth turned toward her father. Smiling, she reached out with her free arm and hugged him. "It was a good week, daddy. Thank you."  
  
"Of course, Elizabeth. I had a wonderful time," he replied.  
  
Elizabeth looked toward Matthew as she collected her thoughts. "Please promise me that you'll check in on mother and call me if anything changes."  
  
"I will, darling. I'll let you know the slightest change."  
  
"Thank you, daddy," she replied as she hugged him again. Turning from him, she headed toward the rest of her family who were waiting for her and Matthew to join them in the car.  
  
Reaching the car, she handed Matthew to Mark for him to place the baby into his car seat. "Goodbye, mother," she said as she turned to hug Isabelle. Pulling back, Elizabeth held Isabelle's hands in hers. "Take care of yourself, okay?"  
  
"I will, Elizabeth. I'll be fine," Isabelle assured her.  
  
"I. . .I know," Elizabeth smiled weakly. "But, please call me if you need anything. No matter what it is."  
  
"I will, darling," Isabelle said before embracing Elizabeth again. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," Elizabeth said tearfully, realizing that this could possibly be the last time her mother would be able to understand the importance and significance of those simple words. Hastily settling herself into the car, she tried to smile as she waved to her parents though the window.   
  
As they drove away, Elizabeth hung her head. Noticing this, Ella asked, "Mommy, are you sad because we have to leave grandpa and grandma?"  
  
Elizabeth looked into the back seat toward the little girl. "Yes, Ella. Yes, I am."  
  
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"Come on, Rachel. You can do this," Mark said, trying to encourage her through her aquatic rehabilitation exercises.  
  
Rachel just glared at her father as she once again tried to stretch her back out as a part of the regimen her physical and occupational therapists had worked out for her. Trying again, she stopped when she felt the beginnings of the pain she had become so accustomed to. Seeing her father's disappointment when she halted, she angrily diverted his gaze and looked down into the water. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tell him she couldn't do it. She was trying. Trying to get better for him, but she just couldn't take any more.  
  
"All you have to do is try a little harder, Rachel. Come on. You can do this," he repeated, the exasperation evident in his voice.  
  
Finally, she just couldn't take it any longer. "No dad! I can't!" She spat. "It just hurts too much."  
  
Hearing Rachel's cry, Elizabeth looked up from the journal she was reading as she lounged in her chair along the side of the pool. There, she could see the frustration that marked both her husband and stepdaughter's faces. Looking under the sun umbrella to where Matthew was napping, she then turned toward the sand box where Ella sat with shovels and buckets all around her. Sure that they were both all right, she placed the journal into her bag and approached the edge of the water. Sitting down onto the concrete surrounding the edge of the pool with her feet dangling into the water, she called, "Mark!"  
  
Looking over from where he was still pressing Rachel, he stopped momentarily and then approached his wife.  
  
"Everything ok?" He asked, facing her and placing his hands on her knees.  
  
"Yeah," she replied. "Matthew's still napping, and Ella is in her usual spot."  
  
Knowingly looking toward the sand box, Mark laughed. "We're going to have to give her a bath before she can even get back into the pool. She has more sand on her than what's left in the box."  
  
Elizabeth chuckled softly as she looked from Ella back toward Mark. "How are things going here?" She asked.  
  
He looked quickly at Rachel who stood across the pool, obviously disgusted with the way her therapy time was panning out. "How does it look?" He asked, ruefully shaking his head.  
  
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip as she regarded him sympathetically. "Mind if I give it a try for a while?" She asked hesitantly.  
  
"Be my guest," Mark commented after a moment. Elizabeth slipped gracefully into the water next to her husband and started to approach Rachel, but Mark grabbed her arm, gently stopping her. "You think you can do a better job than me?" He questioned jokingly.  
  
Elizabeth laughed at his question and shrugging her shoulders, she teased, "We'll see." Kissing her cheek lightly, he then turned from her and pulled himself out of the water.  
  
Elizabeth slowly crossed the pool approaching Rachel. "Doesn't look like things are going so great over here," she commented honestly.  
  
"Yeah well, that may be the understatement of the century," Rachel remarked, looking toward her father who had now taken Elizabeth's place in the lounge chair along the edge of the pool. "He's going to end up killing me."  
  
"Well, I doubt that," Elizabeth smiled knowingly at Rachel. "He's not perfect, Rach. Far from it," she paused. "But he is trying."  
  
"I know, I know," Rachel said hastily. "And I don't want to let him down, but. . ."  
  
"Rachel, you're not letting him down," Elizabeth stated. "He's doing this for you, not for himself. And you need to do the same. You need to do what's best for you right now."  
  
"But he's wanted me to be a star soccer player since I was four years old, Elizabeth. "What if I can't. . ."  
  
"You can, Rachel," Elizabeth insisted.  
  
"I can't," Rachel stated, her voice rising slightly.  
  
Elizabeth thought for a moment as she regarded the sad expression on Rachel's face. Deciding it was useless to argue with her, Elizabeth decided to take a different approach. Pressing her back against the side of the pool, Elizabeth raised her elbows to rest along the edge. Sighing before she started, she finally said, "When I was five, my mother and father both decided that it would be proper for me to take horse back riding lessons." Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but then smiling as she reminisced, she continued, "So, much to my dismay, they enrolled me in the Cullinghood School of Riding in Royal Berkshire, England. I fought it at first, mainly because they forced me into it, but after a while, I really started to like it. I became passionate about being an equestrian, so eventually I started participating in riding and jumping competitions all over England. Even some in Wales and Scotland."  
  
"I didn't know that," Rachel commented incredulously.  
  
Elizabeth chuckled softly at the surprised look on Rachel's face. "Yeah well, it was a long, long time ago, Rach," Elizabeth replied. She was silent a moment longer, but then continued, "When I was nine, we traveled to Scotland for the Amateur Inter-Nations Jumping Show. I qualified for the semi-finals but in the second round, right in the middle of a jump, my horse, Majestic Wind, somehow got spooked and threw me."  
  
"Did you get hurt?" Rachel asked impatiently.  
  
Elizabeth nodded in response. "When I hit the ground, I landed on my left elbow and fractured the olecranon process of my ulna. It's this tip right here," Elizabeth said as she bent her arm and raised her elbow to show Rachel. "I was very lucky, though. I didn't need surgery to secure the bone, but I did have a long arm cast for four weeks and then a removable splint for three more."  
  
"What did you do for all that time?" Rachel asked. "Could you use your arm at all?"  
  
"Not for the first four weeks," Elizabeth replied. "And of course I was afraid to get back on the horse."   
  
"Did you ever ride again?" Rachel asked.  
  
Elizabeth sighed. "Well, I tried, but at first, I didn't have enough strength in my arm or hand to control the horse. It just hurt too much."  
  
Rachel's expression changed as she finally realized the similarities between Elizabeth's story and the recent events of her life.  
  
"Right about this time, too," Elizabeth continued, "my parents decided to get a divorce. They were fighting all the time, and I thought it was my fault, so I tried and tried to get back into the competitions. My parents both tried to encourage me and help with exercises for it, but nothing seemed to work. I really thought I was letting them down and that that was the reason they were separating. I was only trying to get better for them. So they would stay together."  
  
"But you loved it, Elizabeth. Why weren't you trying to get better for yourself?" Rachel asked.   
  
Realizing what she had just said, Rachel glanced at the knowing look on Elizabeth's face. "You tell me, Rach," Elizabeth remarked. "You tell me."  
  
Rachel smirked at Elizabeth response. "That's not fair," she commented. "You set me up."   
  
Elizabeth laughed at her response, but then becoming more serious, she said, "Your father just wants what's best for you, Rachel, but you have to want it as well. You need to get better for yourself. Not for anyone else. Otherwise, it's useless. You have to want it just as much."  
  
"I do want it, Elizabeth. I want to play soccer again more than anything else," Rachel admitted.  
  
"Focus on that then, Rachel. Don't do it for your dad; don't do it for your mom. It has to be for you," Elizabeth rationalized.  
  
Rachel pondered Elizabeth's comment momentarily before asking, "So what happened to you? Were you ever about to compete again?"  
  
"Eventually. I did for a while," Elizabeth said. "When I finally realized that it wasn't my fault my parents were getting a divorce, I started trying to heal my arm for myself. I was in a few competitions after that, but the next fall I started boarding school and couldn't ride any longer."  
  
"Do you miss it?" Rachel asked.  
  
"I did at first, but my goodness. . .that was almost 30 years ago," Elizabeth laughed. "I don't miss it now."  
  
Rachel and Elizabeth stood in silence for a moment; Elizabeth turning from Rachel momentarily to watch Ella, who was still in the sand box, and Rachel looking over at Mark who now had Matthew in the pool with him. Rachel looked back at Elizabeth and then said, "Thank you Elizabeth. Thanks for making me realize what I need to do."  
  
"Your welcome, Rachel," Elizabeth answered, smiling. "Want me to go tell your dad that you're ready to give it another go?"  
  
Rachel thought about it momentarily. She knew she needed to try again; needed to give her father another chance. "Would you mind?"  
  
"No, not at all," Elizabeth replied as she started across the pool. "Just remember that this is for you Rach. No one else."  
  
Rachel nodded as Elizabeth made her way toward Mark. When she finally reached them, she kissed Mark's cheek lightly and took Matthew from him. Bouncing the happy baby up and down in the water, she said, "Hey sweetie pie, did you have a nice nap?"  
  
"No not really," Mark teased.  
  
"Not you," Elizabeth harrumphed, jokingly rolling her eyes. "I think Rachel is ready to try again," she reported after a moment.  
  
"Really?" Mark asked, disbelievingly. "I figured she was finished with me for the rest of her life."  
  
"You just have to know the right thing to say, Mark," Elizabeth said, conspiratorially.  
  
"And I suppose you knew the right thing to say," Mark joked.  
  
"Of course. Did you have any doubt?" Elizabeth laughed. "Now get over there before she changes her mind.  
  
To be continued. . . . 


End file.
